Where the Shadows Grow
by Priestess of Groove
Summary: The pieces are set and the price is nothing less than the freedom of the world and everyone Balthier holds dear. Sequel to TIoF.
1. Chapter 1

The sequel to The Illusion of Freedom. I'm not sure you actually need to read that before this, but some things might not make sense otherwise. I'll leave that up to your judgment though.

**Summary: ** It was meant to be a harmless trip to the country of Rozarria simply to see what the cause is to Marskot's nightmares. But as the two venture further, Balthier begins to suspect that a scheme far more intricate than he anticipated is afoot. The pieces are set and the price is nothing more than the freedom of the world, and everyone Balthier holds dear.

You might call this BalthierxAshe as it does include bits of their relationship in here, but it's not the focus of this story like it was in TIoF. The story is, however,** Balthier-centric.**

**Disclaimer: **Let me get this out of the way: I do not own Final Fantasy XII and I am not making any money off of this.

I also would like to say that this sequel is inspired by a slew of different games and books and movies: Final Fantasy XII(of course), Final Fantasy X, Shadow of the Colossus, Okami, Metal Gear Solid, Gladiator, Silent Hill and Hidalgo. I realize that we all garner inspiration from a myriad of things, but I felt these were worth mentioning as the main sources of the idea for this.

**Author's Note: **Before we go any further, I ask that you have faith in me as a writer. This fic is probably going to be very dark, but I humbly ask that you stick it out with me. Thank you. Now, _finally_, on with the show!

**Chapter 1**

His eyes slid uneasily around the dark passage as Marskot led the way through, never stopping for anything. The abandoned palace at the southern edge of Rozarria unsettled Balthier more than even Giruvegan, and that had been a place he dreaded once Dr. Cid came back without his mind. They had come here because of Marskot's dreams, which is likely why this place unsettled him so. The entire mission seemed bogus; he was the only one Marskot would take to this far end of the world, and he had willingly gone at first.

Balthier trusted his friend, and was sure he would be following him to the very depths of hell for this. Now that he thought about it Marskot had never really been quite the same since the battle for Dalmasca. Balthier was still not sure his complete psyche was intact, but then again he wasn't sure if it ever had been.

"I remember this place. In my dreams," Marskot murmured, shining his light up into the great space, where rotting tapestry and cobwebs hung from the vaulted ceilings like grisly banners. They both turned when they heard rubble stir behind them, but they could not see anything. "Sard." Marskot took out his knife and kept looking.

"He would have attacked us by now. Now, tell me, is this the place? Where you must fight your demons?" Balthier asked, his voice almost pleading. _Fran was right, I have changed a lot, _he thought, sighing inwardly.

Marskot hesitated a moment as his eyes continued to rove around the once magnificent great hall. Finally he shook his head and said, "No, we must go on. It's close though. I can feel it."

"Like you said it was close the last time? And the time before that, too, at Sard's mansion? We have been traveling for a month with only the guidance your dreams may offer. Are you sure we are close?"

Marskot had turned back around, but he did not continue forward. Instead he said, "I am married as well. Do not think I push forward to satisfy any wanderlust. I must keep going. I must face this, with or without you by my side."

Balthier gave an angry growl and looked back the way they came, and then looked ahead to where they were going. There was nothing but dark and emptiness down that hall, with no end in sight. The darkness had never sat well with Balthier and they had been in the palace for almost two days. Who could say where they would be after that? He was anxious for another reason, one he had been keeping at bay so as not to dwell on it or his resolve would shatter. It was bad enough he felt guilty for leaving Ashe to deal with those politicians alone everyday, and he was forbidden to send word since they left. He looked to Marskot's back again, as though he might find the answer he was looking for there, but all was an opaque haze.

"You can leave." The Dorstonian raised the flashlight to start forward once more.

He was halted though by a hand on his shoulder. "I think you should come with me. We are not getting anywhere with this. It might be wise to withdraw for now and come back later when we have a clearer idea of what we are dealing with."

Marskot violently brushed his hand off, glaring at him. "You can leave! I will not! You are not tormented by these dreams! It's not enough that I dream them every night, but now I can hardly see anything else with my waking eyes! I must go on! They are pulling me!"

"Who is pulling you?" Balthier asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. Marskot had never been completely sane, but it appeared his control was slowly waning and he was slipping further and further from normality.

"I don't know who they are! But I can feel them pulling me as though I am on a leash. As much as I would like to resist, I cannot. They are pulling me! So go, if you must, but I cannot go with you." He pulled away and continued walking.

_Could it be? The Occurria? But they should no longer have any will on this world. Ashe, the others, and I helped sever them three years ago in the _Bahamut. _But what else could it be? _Balthier watched him go, utterly torn. He really wanted to get back to Ashe, and lie with her again after so long, but he could not simply abandon Marskot to whatever fate he was pressing himself to. He had never been this indecisive before. _Hell, life was simpler before my marriage, _he thought, even though he would not change a thing otherwise. Actually, no, he might have married Ashe after this quest if he had known they would embark on it.

He picked up his pace to catch up with Marskot. He had every intention of suggesting that they stop for a break, some food perhaps, and he laid his hand on Marskot's shoulder again. "Marskot—"

Balthier jumped when Marskot suddenly spun around and pulled him close. "I'm sorry, Balthier, truly I am." The former sky pirate's eyes widened when he felt something in his side. "I love you so much. You are like a brother to me, but you are holding me back. I must keep going. I must keep going."

"Marskot." The name was hardly more than a whisper, and Balthier felt his knees giving out, but his friend held him close. So close that they were cheek to cheek, and he could feel the tears running down Marskot's face.

"I am sorry. But I cannot have you with me anymore." Marskot gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and let him go.

Balthier fell to his knees and felt for the hilt of the knife driven into his side. He looked up, tears now clouding his own vision, the words he wanted to speak stuck in his throat. "Goodbye, brother. I will see you in the next life." He only delayed his departure further, by cutting the pack from Balthier's back, and then he continued onward not even glancing back.

Balthier could not even attempt to look anymore. Even now his vision was fading, and he could feel the breath run shallow in his lungs. He touched his side again and put the hand close to his face to see it absolutely covered in blood. Thoughts were becoming disjointed as he stared unbelievingly at his own hand, and then slowly, very slowly, he began tracing letters on the stone floor. The sound of footsteps dashing across the floor reached his ears, but it was vague and distant, hardly noticeable; he continued writing. Before the message was done, he sank to the floor, but barely able to see he continued the tracing. He let out a long breath when it was done and laid his head down to rest.

_Oh gods no, oh gods no, not again! _Basch had long been suspicious of Marskot since they had started out. Ashe had asked him if he could follow them, and make sure they both came home alive, but his concern always rested with Balthier. He had not entirely approved of the sky pirate—he may _say_ former but he was still a sky pirate!—actually marrying the Queen, but he promised himself he would not fail him like he did Rasler! Only too little too late.

_Oh gods, I should have grabbed Balthier and dragged him back to Rabanastre when their quest started to turn dangerous._ _I should have used my better judgment. _He could see Balthier had collapsed completely to the floor, but he was still doing something with his hand. And then he stopped moving.

Basch nearly skidded to a halt among the rubble and grabbed his jacket to turn him over. "Balthier!" One look drained the blood completely from Basch's face. The normally vibrant amber eyes that sparkled with mirth were now blank and glazed in death. "No, Balthier. Oh gods no." He had now failed two friends, he had now failed twice. Tears began sliding down his face as he continued staring at Balthier's pale visage, until his eyes were drawn to the last words he had written before he died, written in his own blood.

_Trust no Friend_

He had smeared the last letter when his hand had gone slack, but all the other letters were perfectly legible. They shook the weathered knight to his very core, and he drew Balthier closer as though he were a father holding his son.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

___One month ago—_

In the gigantic throne room the Queen Ashelia of Dalmasca could acutely feel Balthier shift from boredom behind her. Once a week the Queen opened her throne room for all her people—rich and poor—to beseech her help on whatever problems they were having difficulty solving. In many cases it was a noble disputing property lines, or offenses with _another_ noble, and so Ashelia would attempt to sort it out.

Balthier—she still could not believe he had married her—usually accompanied her on such days, both to keep her from rotting away from boredom and to make sure she was protected. As her personal guard he typically wore arm and leg armor and a vest, but he kept his face unmasked. She was sure that had been a point of contention for him when he was a Judge, but it also had the added effect that the people, usually the nobles, could easily judge both the Queen's and her consort's temperamental compass by increasingly darkening glares from him. She had asked him to curb it, which he was usually able to hold in a stoic manner not dissimilar from Basch, but he refused to look like an unfeeling machine.

For once there was a lull in the schedule and in the attempt to look regal they largely kept quiet, but the acute silence was rubbing on Ashe and she finally said, "Balthier—"

"Don't even start." They had had this conversation _several_ times before. "I knew what I was doing when I married you."

"I was going to say you did not have to stay with me today."

"That was not your previous line of thought, and you might as well perish that thought too. I like to be informed. Besides I will be leaving your side in half an hour or so. Geoffrey will take my place," Balthier said, glancing at his pocket watch.

_Ah, Geoffrey,_ Ashe mused. After he had married her, Balthier had done a little reorganzing of the palace, as well as getting under the skin of her most trusted, and occasionally oldest, officials. Instead of employing a member or two of the Royal guard he had gone out and hired his own personal assistant and guard. The man had no loyalty to anyone but Balthier and the former pirate liked it that way.

"You don't usually leave in the middle of the day."

"Well, I have a council meeting tomorrow. I must head to the library and do some research to prepare for it."

"Oh dear. Try not to get on their bad side because I have to deal with them too. Their favorite thing to complain about is you. I know how much you love antagonizing them. What's the topic?"

"Education." Though she did not turn she knew he had a smug smile on his face.

"Oh, well I am sure you will enjoy debating that. You have mentioned your ideas to me and I fully support them."

"Well, thank you, but they bitch and moan that I am trying to turn Dalmasca into Archadia."

"Well, we are, are we not? In order to live adequately in the world community we must have educated citizens."

"That's what I said, but they maintain that nobles alone should retain the right to an education. That _is_ something that most of the people in Old Archades do not have: an education. In that way they sound just like Archadian nobles."

"We knew it was out there. We both have had our share of glaring hypocrisy. Balthier, you would not believe how eternally grateful I am that I was able to marry you and not simply a figurehead. Do you miss being a pirate?"

"Well…yes, I do but there is not any way it would have worked out. I gave Vale my word. The timing could hardly have been any better." She felt his hand rest comfortably on her shoulder and he squeezed it.

"How is Vale? I send her a letter every week but I rarely hear back from her."

"That is because she is a terrible correspondent. I call her by communicator and she is almost always whining about her classes. She sends her apologies she hasn't written to you, and thanks you for your concern."

"When did she say this?" There was hardly a time Balthier was not on his toes, and it was clear he had forgotten to pass on Vale's message.

"Yesterday." He must have sensed her smiling because he said, "She called me last night, and you know I did not get out of the library until midnight."

"Researching for the council meeting. I do hope you come to bed earlier tonight."

"That is precisely why Geoffrey is to relieve me in a few moments."

Suddenly a herald opened the door and they fell silent. "Lord Marskot Demarlgen." The person stepped through the door and turned back to say something to the herald before he refocused his attention back on the two people on the dais. Balthier jumped off though and met Marskot halfway.

"Marskot! How are you doing? It's been a few years, hasn't it?" He said, hugging his friend fiercely.

"Two years?" Marskot said as he began to grin.

"That is still quite a while."

"And yet you look as you did when Sari and I left."

"Oh really? Well even so, have you seen Vale? She must have gained a couple more inches on me. She is taller than Ashe."

"Wow, it sounds like she's taller than Sari, too. Where is Vale?"

Balthier clicked his tongue and said, "Private school. She hated the palace tutors and missed the company of other students, too."

"That sounds like Vale," Marskot said and then he turned his attention to Ashe who had gotten up and walked down to meet them. "Ah, Lady Ashe, you look as beautiful as ever. I hope you are faring well." In true nobility fashion he raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckle.

She smiled and said, "I am well, Marskot. I hope you and Sari are as well?"

"Very well, your highness."

"Marskot, it is Ashe if you please."

His face soured and he shook his head, "I am sorry, but you have status above me now."

"Marskot, is there any particular reason you're here? If it was simply for a visit Sari would be here," Balthier said. He studied his friend carefully and frowned at him. Now that he really looked, he could see his friend was a little disheveled. His dirty blonde hair was out of place and there were slight bruises under his eyes from his sleepless nights. Balthier could see the mirth in his eyes was merely a mask to hide his distress.

"Very astute of you. I…actually came to talk to you. Do you mind if I speak to you alone? No offense intended, your highness," he said as his eyes darted nervously.

Ashe blinked at him curiously but she waved her hand at them and said, "Go ahead. I will continue to attend to the people."

"Geoff will be here shortly, so you won't have to wait too long for company," Balthier said, and then he led the way out of the room. They went up several flights of stairs to a room Balthier had arranged as his private study. Books filled the shelves and various items sat in spaces, such as the gun he had been carrying when they had gone up against Vayne. A couple of terrariums also sat on the shelves, one in particular carrying a small python curled up in a corner, another container held a large dragon. There was a basket with a ragged blanket for his cat Artemis, who was dozing in a patch of sunlight that filtered through the windows.

"You've set yourself a nice place up here," Marskot said, looking around. He bent down to stroke Artemis, who bleated in irritation at him.

"No one is allowed in here without my permission. Not even Ashe. Now tell me what is bothering you."

Like clockwork the mask fell away once they were alone. Marskot collapsed in a chair in front of his desk and merely breathed there for a moment. Finally he said, "I need your help. I have been having these dreams lately. I can't explain them."

"What do you mean?"

"They are these nightmares. But there is nothing remotely scary about them! I simply wander through this place looking for something. For what I do not know, but in the dream I feel this strange sense of urgency and fear. Well, the building that I am seeing is rather creepy. Desolate and derelict, it looks like an abandoned mansion or castle from the inside. There are snarling statues and decaying portraits hanging on the wall. Every morning I wake up with the need to go to that place. Once I actually felt like something was tugging me out of the bed and out the door. I fought it off, but that's the morning I decided to come to you."

Balthier frowned at his friend, trying to make sense from the vague description Marskot had given him of the dreams. "What do you need of me?"

"I was actually going to ask if you could accompany me," Marskot said, fiddling with his hands even as he did so.

His proposition was met by silence as Balthier continued to study him. "I know, I know, I should not be disturbing you and your new life. I almost did not come, but…I cannot do this alone."

Balthier raised his eyebrows and he said, "Do not get me wrong but you have Sari."

He blushed and cast his eyes downward before he said, "She already offered to come. And she was going to but circumstances changed, and I felt it was too dangerous to attempt. You are my only hope. I trust no one else!"

Balthier was silent for some time as he looked at his friend. _Why does Marskot need to go to this place so badly?_ He was not keen to leave for who knew how long on a quest with no clear destination, most particularly since the crashing of the Bahamut was almost three years behind them and peace was so very fragile. _I can always leave Geoffrey to guard Ashe. That is why I hired him. _Even though he consistently denied it to Ashe, like earlier, it hurt that he could not be a pirate anymore—at the very least adventure!—and that in part had been due to his injuries from the Bahamut and his promise to Vale. Now, here, Marskot was handing him the perfect opportunity to strike out into the world again.

_I did tell Ashe my restless ways could not keep me by her side for long, _Balthier thought.

His eyes refocused on Marskot who had gone back to looking at the dragon, who was sunbathing on the rock giving the Dorstonian a placid look. "Marskot?" When his friend looked back at him he said, "You'll have to give me some time to think about it."

"That is fine. I will leave five days from now early, early in the morning. If you will go, try to forewarn me so that I know not to leave without you," Marskot said. He started out the door without an answer but Balthier got up from his chair and followed him out.

"Wait! Where are you staying?"

"Oh, I figure I might go back to the Sandsea tavern."

"Why don't you stay here?"

Marskot actually seemed to consider it and then he shook his head. "No. I would prefer you think on my proposition without any interference from me."

The next day Balthier flipped through the books and pages he had gathered for the council meeting with an ever darkening scowl on his face. It was only proper that he had told officials of Marskot's proposition and now he wish that he had kept it to himself and merely told Ashe. As soon as he had thought on the implications of telling them, he knew the subject of the day's council meeting would change in an instant to—what the older council members considered—a more pressing issue.

_Ashe and I talked. We wanted to avoid this for a couple more years, _he grumbled to himself as he waited for the other council members to arrive. Several of them had already arrived and they eyed the consort as he continued to flip through the pages of his report. Despite its thickness Balthier had not been able to fully concentrate on it last night, after Marskot had left. He found this new puzzle more appealing to sift through.

_I guess it is too late, _he thought when he heard the door open and close from the last council member. Balthier was at the head of the table with the dozen council members sitting on opposite ends. Them against him. The atmosphere of this meeting was a little more charged than usual, due largely in part to Balthier's dark mood. Usually he wore an innocuously smug smile and the debate would begin, but this situation was different.

"Prince-consort Balthier Bunansa, due to recent circumstances we had to change the subject of today's council meeting from Education in Dalmasca to the pending request of Marskot Demarlgen of Dorstonia," the head council member Balim Gorovan said. "As this is a personal request from him to you, we do not have to touch on the implications to foreign policy. The record is clear that you are friends and we will respect that, but we beg that you take this nation into consideration when you arrange personal meetings. You are the consort now, not a pirate, and as such it is part of your responsibility to see that Dalmasca is, first and foremost, protected and that her reputation with allies remains intact. Do you understand?"

Balthier had not even bothered looking at Balim as he had talked, choosing to continue directing his glare toward the floor. His hand had moved from flipping the pages of his reports and books to twirling a pocket knife. _Standard political reply from a council. They're only concerned about covering their own asses,_ Balthier thought. He could understand their concerns but when it was personal business they could keep their gigantic, hooked noses out of it.

Balim was actually younger than most, at possibly twenty years Balthier's senior, but he was the most radical of the lot, and he had fought animatedly against the sky pirate marrying Ashe. Balthier remembered that had practically been the conflict of the century. No one had any problem with it except the nobles—potential bachelors as far as Balthier was concerned—and they had fought against him and Marskot. They had thrown argument after argument with such zeal the noble eventually crumpled. It helped Marskot's case that he was of the second most influential family in Dorstonia. _I imagine they're still bitter about that, _Balthier thought as he examined his knife.

After an excruciatingly long silence Balthier said, "Yes."

"Very good. About this venture: where do you intend on going?"

"I do not know. Marskot will go where his dreams will take him. My purpose is merely to escort him there," Balthier said, wishing his friend had given him more information.

"Do you know how long you will be gone?"

"No."

"Do you know anything else of this venture?"

"Only that we must go incognito," Balthier said. A lie for Marskot but true enough for Balthier. Aside from their friends, only the people of Rabanastre really knew Balthier's face and no one outside had probably seen pictures. Hell, their Queen had wandered the streets of her city during their journey and _no one_ had recognized her face. He at least would not have to grow much if any facial hair.

Another man, one by the name of Durin, who was much older than Balim if the face full of wrinkles was anything to go by said, "I am sure you are well aware of where we are going with this. You already understood your duty to this country when you married Her Majesty, now we are asking you to fulfill that obligation."

"I do not understand how this merits me to fulfill my duties. Ashe and I asked for five years when we were married, and you granted us that!"

"Circumstances change," Balim said.

"No they do not. You have nothing of any weight to require you to break your deal with us," Balthier snapped at them. He did not like having this compromise on their privacy and happiness.

"With so little information, we feel it is in the best interest of Dalmasca if you fulfill your obligations now. We said this at the beginning of the meeting: Dalmasca comes before you and most particularly before your relationship with the queen. Now, you _will_ provide an heir before you leave."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Ashe moaned as Balthier nibbled and kissed her shoulder, even as her body shuddered in its final throes of gratification. She forced his head up once more to plant a soft kiss on his lips, and then they both fell silent as they recuperated. Ashe smiled as her body sank into a more relaxed state, feeling warm, content, and utterly fulfilled.

"Is that enough for you?" Balthier asked from where he laid his head down in the crook of her neck, giving her a mischievous grin.

She smiled. "Mmm…yes…" Ashe rolled her eyes down toward him but he did not move.

Then he said, "We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"It is a bit late for that, isn't it?" She said, raising her eyebrows at him as he smiled up at her innocently.

"My lady, you know my ways. I can easily circumvent the situation that might arise from this. Just say the word…" Ashe studied his face for a moment, finding nothing but suave innocence marked by that smile, but she knew he was uneasy. _About what though?_

Ashe let her head fall back to the pillows, knowing any effort on her part to pry out his secrets would be met with evasive answers. So she said with a sigh, "That won't be necessary. We probably shouldn't ignore the council in this regard."

"The council," Balthier huffed. "They're hardly more than ancient relics who wish their ways were still commonplace. In their minds, a queen should never rule. Ashe, you are simply playing into their hands."

When he rolled off of her she grimaced slightly, already missing the completion that making love with him brought her. Balthier chuckled at this and he said, "We'll have a few more nights of this." He brought himself up to look more directly into her eyes and propped his head on his hand, his expression a bit more serious. "Personally, I think they have their cravats tied too tight, or those wigs are cutting off the circulation to their brain, to require me to impregnate you before one little trip."

"I am the last of King Raithwall's line," Ashe said. "They are simply taking precautions. So long as his blood continues to flow, Dalmasca shall be safe. Is giving up those three other childless years truly that bothersome? Or am I sensing something else?" She knew some measure of his insecurities and part of them lie in having children. After his father so disappointed him, he feared disappointing his own children. She was almost sure of this, but he had not fully admitted it to her. Yet.

"Two. It'll be two-thirds of another year before you give birth, if you get pregnant that is. Hmmph…I just think their attitudes towards women are 5th Century. They need to catch up with the times before we wave 'au revoir,'" he said, frowning down at her. She knew it was not explicitly directed towards her and she grinned up at him.

"Balthier, I knew my responsibilities as queen long before I hit finishing school. The Raithwall line is important, any ruling family is important, and, unless my genders are mistaken, women are to give birth to children. Even if you see it as cruel, I am more than happy to perform this duty for kingdom."

"And I don't doubt it," he said, "but you should at the very least _choose_ when you want to have children. You are not a brood Chocobo to use as they please."

"Balthier, I imagined that I would already have a child! Remember, I first married at seventeen. I was fully expecting to give birth before I even hit twenty. I am surprised I do not already have two children at twenty-two. They were welcome years, but I am more than ready to bear a child. So, please, do not fret over it. You do not need any gray hairs at your age," she said, shaking her head.

He snorted and silenced her lips with a quick kiss. "As you wish, but my viewpoint still stands."

Ashe swatted him on the shoulder with an exasperated sigh. "You're impossible!"

"Oh, but your life would be so dim and dull without me," he said with a smile.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. It might have been just as colorful if I had married Al-Cid," she said, knowing full well the response she would get.

"Perish the thought! Al-Cid would simply lie here talking about himself enough that you would murder him before the first morning of your marriage dawned. Now, good night," he said, rolling away from her.

"You are going to sleep now? You're not the Balthier I know."

"Well, I'm getting up earlier and going to bed later. Your highness is far too demanding for my proper beauty sleep," he replied.

"Sleep well, dear," Ashe said, lying still and then she shifted ever so slightly to her side of the bed. Balthier had a tendency to move around in his sleep, but he typically stayed on his side of the bed. _He's easier to sleep next to him than Vaan. _Ashe smiled as she thought back on the journey she, Balthier, and the others had taken to restore her kingdom. Her smile faded when that thought connected to this potential one. It would be just Balthier and Marskot. Just those two with no safety net of others. Ashe knew it would have been impossible for her and one other person to make their previous journey, and she had to wonder if they would need help. _Plenty of other people take journeys alone or with only one other person. Surely, they will be fine. Balthier has been keeping fit and is prepared to fight with both a sword and a gun. I'm sure Marskot is the same way. Both are more than capable._

Even as she tried to reassure herself there was an unexplained ache in her heart. Ever since Balthier had mentioned this to her yesterday worry had been gnawing at the back of her head. She felt that something terrible was going to happen and it would involve her husband, but what it might be eluded her. She had long found that feelings were very hard to go by—irrational and inconclusive as they were. Still she knew this would bother her until they returned safely and who knew when that would be. _I will send a message to Larsa and Gabranth tomorrow, _she thought.

Ashelia sat up and leaned over ever so slightly to see his face. She always enjoyed how peaceful he looked while he slept. His mouth was quirked upward ever so slightly in a smile, and his handsome face remained smooth and pleasant. "You had better come back to me," she whispered and then she lay back down.

He was already gone when she woke up the next morning. Typically he would still be lying in bed trying to catch a few extra winks, and when she finally roused him he would grumble the whole way through getting dressed. But this morning she found herself dressing alone. She was used to going long days without seeing him, but she felt her mood dampen when she thought, _I'll be waking up alone the next few weeks. _"Sometimes I wonder how I managed all these years without him," she murmured to herself while she was bathing.

Her first task of the day was to speak with the ambassadors of various nations represented in her palace whom, by default of their being there, clearly recognized the sovereignty of Dalmasca. Even though it had been three years since its restoration, Ashelia could not help but smile victoriously upon seeing them all there. The most prominent aspect of this job was based largely in economics—importing, exporting, tariffs, taxes, supply & demand. She came to an agreement with the representative of Galbrand, agreeing to lower the tariffs on their tea if they were willing to sell it at a lower price. She was having a bit more difficulty securing trading with the representative of Sarava.

"I am sorry, Lord Murleaux, but unless you reduce the price of your silks then I cannot accept trading agreements with you. My people cannot pay that price," she said as respectfully as she could, even as frustrated as she was for it. The Sarava silk was second to none, but this knowledge made them withhold it for promise of a continually higher bidder. While their trade with Archadia and Rozarria was booming enough to keep their country floating, a poorer country like Dalmasca could not afford such luxury.

"Very well, your Highness," Murleaux said, with a haughty sneer. "I pity your misfortune, but a lower price would not be acceptable."

"Then there is no need to continue this. I have a busy schedule today, Lord. You are dismissed," Ashe said so desperately wishing she could glare at the man, even as her diplomatic lessons forbade it. Instead she nodded in respect and smiled politely enough that he did not challenge the ever so slight annoyance in her words.

"Ah, my Desert Bloom, how are you?"

It took an amazing amount of control to keep from sighing and rolling her eyes, instead she turned to Al-Cid with a gracious smile, as she did with all of her ambassadors, and said, "Very well, my Lord Margrace. I hope I find you well?" She extended her hand for him to kiss as he usually did. _Why he continues to be Rozarria's ambassador to Dalmasca is not quite clear to me. Is he hoping we will divorce?_

She remembered that after Balthier announced he was marrying her, Al-Cid's usual spirit toward her had been effectively dampened. She remembered he had moped for weeks until even after the wedding, but when eight months had passed he had stepped up his flirting, as though he had hopes of being her side paramour. Though it had been two years, his efforts never seemed to diminish as time wore on. Her smile faded as his lips continued to linger on her knuckles.

Finally Al-Cid looked up and he said, "You look more beautiful with each day that passes. It is always such a pleasure to work with you."

"Thank you, Lord Margrace—"

"Al-Cid, if you please, Your Majesty."

"Al-Cid, if you have an issue to bring up with me concerning Dalmasca and Rozarria's trade then please do so. Otherwise I have others I should meet for today," she said, distancing herself from him so that he might get the message a little better.

But still he approached her. "Please, your Highness, hear me out," he said, finally removing his sunglasses. "If I could make this morning anymore pleasurable I would gladly offer it."

"Al-Cid…"

"A flower for you," he said. It was yellow an orange bloom likely stolen from the palace gardens. She took it hesitantly and then someone with a rolled up paper tapped the Rozarrian's shoulder.

"Ahem."

_Thank the gods for Geoffrey, _she thought with a sigh of relief. If it had been Balthier, Al-Cid's head might have already been removed from his shoulders. As it was the black-haired man stood with his arms crossed, tapping his foot as if he were impatiently waiting for something. He appeared disgusted by what he had seen but was nonetheless amused.

"I believe you are intruding on her Highness' personal space, My Lord," he said respectfully enough. "You're Lord Margrace, correct?"

Al-Cid was at a loss for words for a moment, and then he said, "Yes, one of the heirs to the throne, and benefactor to Dalmasca's reinstated sovereignty"

"Ah, yes, here it says you are not to be within a ten foot radius of her Royal Majesty," Geoffrey said, unrolling the paper to look at the list of names.

"I beg your pardon, what are you saying?" Al-Cid asked.

"Well, from my employer, Captain Bunansa. Originally you weren't supposed to be within a mile of her Majesty, but when he learned you were to continue to be Rozarria's ambassador, he amended it. I am here to enforce that," he said with a polite enough smile.

"You are dismissed, Al-Cid," Ashe said. When he was gone and they were alone she continued, "Thank you, Geoffrey. I was about to call the guards."

"There is no need to raise a fuss. I apologize though for not coming over sooner. I've been watching from the doorway. By the way, Captain Bunansa told me to tell you you look beautiful," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Honestly, I'm a guard not an errand boy."

_Does Balthier even know what I'm wearing? _She was wearing a simple, shimmering light blue dress than usual, which was far less frilly than her typical ball gown. Her hair had grown to shoulder length and was pinned up into a bun, revealing much of her shoulder, but the dress had a high back and was still considered quite modest. "Have you seen Balthier today?"

"A couple of times and only for a minute or so. He's been running around shopping for the journey and doing his other duties," Geoffrey said, shifting a little on his feet. He always seemed to be nervous when talking to her alone. "I think that's why Al-Cid was so venturous. He knew Captain Bunansa was out in the city."

"I see. What else do you have for me? Anything of particular interest?'

"Well…" He hesitated a moment, looking askance at her before he said, "I wanted to show this to Captain Bunansa. I figured he would have found this of interest." He showed her another paper after unfurling it.

"What is it?" It was a list of pictures and some message written next to them. She recognized Ba'Gamnan at once and shuddered.

"Headhunters are disappearing. As someone formerly on their list, I thought he might like to see. Now, if you'll excuse me, your Highness, I have my own duties to attend to. Will you be all right? Would you like me to summon a guard?"

"No, I'll be fine. Have a good day, Geoffrey."

He bowed. "Thank you, your Highness. Be sure to have one as well."

After two more people who came through, one a representative from Balfonheim and the other from Caruda, Ashelia retired to her private chambers for lunch. When she walked in and found the room empty, she idly wondered if Balthier had perhaps taken his own lunch up to his private quarters. Instead she sat in front of her mirror and dug through one of the drawers to pull out an emergency communicator that would give her a visual screen of the person she was talking to. After typing in the code to the Archadian emperor's palace, a direct link to the emperor, she waited a moment before the youthful face of the Emperor Larsa appeared. She could see that he had grown a couple more inches as his face had lengthened instead of retaining that boyish chubbiness.

"Ah, Lady Ashe, this is a pleasant surprise. How are you?"

"Very well, Lord Larsa. Is Gabranth near you perchance?"

"Not at the moment, but I will summon him for you. May I ask whatever for?"

"I must ask him—and you—a favor."

"Hmm…we'll see what we can do." While they waited they chatted about various politics and minute troubles they had dealt with. As annoying as those would be they laughed about them, recognizing that a war in Ivalice would be so much worse.

Finally her old knight reappeared, dressed in his armor, wearing his brother's trademark helmet. Taking it off he leaned over to look at Ashe and he smiled at her. "Ah, my Lady! I hope you're well. How is Balthier treating you?"

She could not quite hide a smile. Basch still did not fully approve of Balthier being her husband but thankfully he kept his reservations to himself. "Like royalty," she said. "It can get annoying, because very occasionally he rearranges my schedule to take the burden off my duties. Really, Gabranth, you would approve of Balthier the consort far more than Balthier the pirate. Speaking of him, I must ask you a favor."

"This has to do with Balthier?" Gabranth asked, his brow furrowing ever so slightly.

"Yes. A couple of days ago Marskot arrived and asked Balthier to accompany him on some quest. To where, I know not, and for how long also eludes me. It has me at unease and my worries would be lighter if I knew that you were following them."

"You wish me to accompany them?"

"No, they would never allow that. Follow them, spy on them. I want to see them home safely is all," she said.

The two in the screen were silent for a moment, exchanging a glance, and then Basch asked, "When do they intend to leave?"

"Three days from now in the morning. Balthier suggested it might be before the sun rises," she offered, hoping that helped them out.

"I guess I should start preparing now, that is if Lord Larsa agrees."

"I grant you my approval, I must warn you to be discreet about this though. I would prefer few people know the reasons for your departure. Otherwise, I have plenty of Judges to ensure my safety."

"If I may make a suggestion, Judge Martin would be a good candidate. I sense he needs a change of pace from training the apprentices," Basch said.

"It will be noted. Was there anything else, Lady Ashe?"

"No, thank you, Lord Larsa, Ba-Gabranth." It had been two years and she still had difficulty calling him by his new alias. When she had turned the screen off and lain down on the bed, she sighed to herself and said, "I hope this is simply a foolish worry. Perchance it will not be dangerous, but if they are traveling much on foot they will meet many dangerous fiends that hide in the corners of Ivalice. I pray it does not come to that."

Balthier sighed as he looked at the list he had written up that morning of things he needed to do that day. It was not especially long, but as per his royal duties he was supposed to spend a couple of hours on some of them, which really ate into his schedule. For the moment he could do as he pleased for the lunch hour. _I should go up to see, Ashe. I haven't seen her yet today, _he thought as he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes for a brief respite, waiting for a toasted sandwich from the palace cooks.

"Ah, sir, a word if you will," a voice broke into his thoughts.

Grimacing, he pried his eyes open and said, "Yes, Geoffrey? Wait, do you have a lot to say?"

"That depends. Will you be interested in these headhunter disappearances or am I wasting my time?"

Balthier took the sheet, his interest piqued, and scanned through the pictures. As Ashe's did, his eyes eventually landed on Ba'Gamnan and he moved his lips as he read the text printed next to his picture. His eyes widened. "Dead? Ba'Gamnan's dead?"

"Yes, and a crony who was with him. You know of him in particular?" Geoffrey asked.

"Yes, he used to be my most dedicated pursuer. He was the only one who bothered chasing me the last year I had a bounty on my head, when Ashe and I were still traveling with the others. What happened to him? Wait, let's go up to my study. Hurry, get something to eat."

The cooks, thankfully, made in bulk so there were a couple of extra sandwich that came out with Balthier's. Geoffrey simply grabbed it and a drink and followed Balthier up several flights of stairs until they were in the office. They met Artemis, the cat, at the foot of the last stairs and she hung around them. "The cat will want her afternoon snack, I'm sure. She always knows when I have my lunch." Balthier took a slice of meat off his plate and shredded it into chunks that he then sprinkled into Artemis' dish. She dug into it right away. "Spoiled brat", he muttered, and then he turned to Geoffrey. "Now, tell me how Ba'Gamnan met his end."

"It was a bloody one. I am not precisely sure it makes for good conversation over food. Anyway, Ba'Gamnan's…_remains_ were found in the Amaia Forest along with the body of one of the Bangaas that followed him around. It took blood tests to actually figure out that it was. Ba'Gamnan's guts littered all over the forest floor and spotting the trails. I would not envy the person that had to touch that."

Balthier made a disgust face as he nursed a bite of his sandwich. He swallowed and then leaned over his desk toward the captain of the guard. "Hold on," Balthier said, "They had to do blood tests for his remains. He is a rather distinguishable Bangaa. I would never forget that green and white body."

"There was no body though," Geoffrey said.

"What?"

"Just entrails. Whoever killed him decided to dig out his insides, and then...hide the skin somewhere which is ridiculous, or take the skin with him which is ludicrous. It's the only explanation that makes sense, though. But what would you do with a skin?" Geoffrey asked, bending down to pet the cat. Done with her lunch, Artemis rubbed up against his legs, and then she jumped and curled up in his lap.

"Perhaps he wanted to tan his hide and make an object of it. Of course, that's extremely illegal, but those kind of black market items are demanded at ridiculously high prices," Balthier said, picking up and flipping through the pages. "How many headhunters is this?"

"Forty-five in total."

"Forty-five! Good gods, what could be going on?"

"It sounds like there is a new headhunter on the loose, but instead of taking out hits he is taking out the other hunters," Geoffrey replied. "There were three others in there who met the same grisly fate Ba'Gamnan did. Eight bodies have been found in total the rest have simply…vanished."

"Are you sure they might potentially be dead? What if people have simply not been looking hard enough," Balthier said.

"That might be the case for a couple, but people have found this new occurrence extremely interesting, and they have been scouring their sources in every remote village and city that they can reach. Thirty-seven headhunters remain missing as of—the most recent—three weeks ago," Geoffrey said. "Some have been missing for as long as a year."

Balthier carefully read the paper: _Ba'Gamnan, Druvin Vorst, Errix the Two-Sword, Alurst the Fierce, Malus the Violent. _Some of their names had always sounded amusing more than frightening to Balthier, but they demanded some measure of respect for being the most successful and the fiercest headhunters alive, and now they were missing. _What the hell is happening here? _Balthier wondered, running through the many names over and over again, not quite believing this was true.

He sighed. "Geoffrey, I really do not have time to deal with this at the moment, but you were right. I am very interested in these disappearances; unfortunately it is going to have to wait until I get back. Keep doing your research, and then tell me what you have discovered when I get back. You are dismissed."

Obediently displacing Artemis the cat—who gave a yowl in protest—he headed out the door and left Balthier to his thoughts. _I wonder who could be behind these disappearances? I have never heard of anything like it before. _He sighed and shoved the thoughts from his mind. _It can wait. I have a trip to be ready for._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_Stop being such a sentimental fool and leave! Marskot is waiting,_ he thought to himself as he looked at Ashe. Strangely, climbing out of bed and dressing had been the easy part. He knew he should not have taken that last look, but he was still debating whether he should say goodbye or not. He did not want to draw this out, but he was certain Ashe would castrate him when he came back if he did not. He was lucky Sari only slapped him when she had spotted him in the Nalbina market.

Finally he bent down and kissed her cheek which stirred her awake. She gave him a heavily drowsy and confused look. "Wha—?"

"I'm leaving now, Ashe. I simply wanted to say goodbye to you. I figured you would cause me bodily harm if I did not," he said, giving her his usual smirk.

It did not take long for her mind to get up to speed and she frowned tersely at him. "You were certainly correct in that assumption." But then her expression saddened and she reached for him. He took the hand and planted a delicate kiss on it. "Please come back to me."

"I promise," he replied. "Remember we still have all of our old friends and Geoffrey to keep you company. If you are at all lonely, do not hesitate to call on them, although I might if one of those friends was Vaan." She smiled. "Goodbye, Ashe." It was a struggle but he managed to let go of her hand, turn from her, and walk out the door. She continued staring long after he shut it behind him.

At 0400 the halls of the palace were deserted except for the occasional round of guards, and the only light consisted of bracketed torches and the occasional oil lamp on the wall or above. Walking through them in a drowsy state was hardly helping with the eeriness of it all. For fear of oversleeping, he simply stayed up all night. To compound his exhaustion with a long night as well as a long day, he and Ashe had made love one last time in that attempt for an heir, so he was even more drained than usual.

_I am most certainly sleeping on the airship to Rozarria, _he thought as he attempted to conceal a yawn, but was only half successful. In the five days before he and Marskot had left, they had done a little research and decided that Rozarria was a likely place to start looking for old, decrepit mansions. As much joy it gave Balthier in being able to goad Al-Cid he found the number of derelict mansions rather unusual. _Usually in Archadia if a mansion—or any building for that matter—was old or unused it would be demolished and placed with something newer and better. Why are these simply abandoned? Does Rozarria take no pride in its appearance? _Balthier had wondered with interest. Marskot had isolated a handful that were built rather far from civilization and decided that they would go to those first. Balthier had only looked at this in despair. _Good gods, are we going to have to search _all_ of them? He does not even know if it's in Rozarria._

When Balthier had asked about that Marskot's only reply was: "Just a feeling. I know that is hardly enough to go on, but you are going to have to trust me on this."

Balthier had raised his eyebrows at this and then said, "I sincerely hope we do not search every single mansion."

"We won't. I am sure we will not, but if I turn out wrong then I promise we will go back home after the first ten mansions. Agreed?"

_How long is that bound to take? _Balthier pursed his lips in thought but then he nodded. "Agreed."

Balthier's eyes wandered to the training ground that was currently hidden behind a palace wall, and he thought back to his practice fight with Geoffrey merely the day before. _He would still be asleep. He said he was sore when he left the arena, but I bet he will be even sorer now. _Balthier smiled at the thought. His left knee and chest still ached from the blows the captain had managed to land on him.

As Balthier made his way toward the Sandsea he could see merchants preparing for the new day, and late night stragglers hurrying to return to their flats. He could imagine Miguelo hurrying about his shop, sending his gaggle of orphans here and there as he opened shop. As much as he disliked getting up before dawn, he would not deny that it was refreshing. Somehow the air always felt and smelled fresher and crisper from the long night, instead of the dry, burnt air that came with the sun.

When Balthier walked into the Sandsea there were only a couple patrons left with their heads lying on the table, still clutching their mugs. The night shift of the Sandsea was wiping off tables and cleaning up the place for the morning shift to arrive. Balthier nodded at the current bartender and quietly made his way upstairs, knowing even he was not immune from angry patrons who were stirred by his noise. Balthier knocked and he faintly heard Marskot say 'Come in.'

"You don't look like you have slept at all," the consort commented as he walked in and closed the door. Marskot was leaning over a table examining a map and he dully shook his head. His hair was mussed as though he had only just crawled out of bed, but there was a dark mask of exhaustion around his eyes.

"I didn't sleep. You look tired, too. The airship leaves in an hour and a half. Do you have everything?"

Balthier snorted. He was carrying a pack similar to what he had carried with the others on their quest several years ago. A sword hung across his back and a gun rested snugly in its holster at his side, and he had another knife sheathed on his other side. "How is this going to work? I cannot move so well with a big pack on my shoulders. Fighting is going to be terrible," Balthier said.

"Yes, I've been thinking about that. How much gil do you have?" Marskot asked.

"Twenty thousand."

"Ah, and I have thirty thousand. We might want to consider pitching into buy a chocobo."

Balthier stared at him for a moment. "Why would that be prudent?"

"Beast of burden, if you will. It would keep us from having to carry everything and we would like cover more ground."

"Ah, I see your point. It certainly is rather attractive. Even if it's rather expensive we can get loot from animals and sell that off. Have you been keeping fit?"

"Eh…I hope it is enough. I have been playing my violin more than with my sword." He gave Balthier a grimace.

"Are we ready to go?"

"Yes, I believe so. I've got my maps, my tin whistle—"

"Why are you bringing tin whistle?"

"I must have music!"

Balthier merely smiled and shook his head. Then he said, "Well, let us go then! We have an airship to catch!"

They had already purchased their tickets, so Balthier found himself languishing in the corridor to the airship instead of lying in bed for an hour longer. _I would miss the flight if I had flopped back into bed, _Balthier thought as he attempted to cover a wide yawn as he slumped back against the wall. He scratched his five day growth in irritation. It was nowhere near a full beard, but it was enough to cover his identity. He turned to Marskot when he heard him fiddling with something and he blinked. "Your camera? Why did you bring that? You're going to have to carry that."

"Oh, the Chocobo can carry it. It's a comfort object. Like my tin whistle."

"A comfort object?"

"Am I not allowed to take it?"

"No, but you and I would both agree that those are unnecessary baggage."

"To you they may be, but not to me. They will be worth it. I know it."

"Whatever suits your fancy. I truly hope this goes well."

"Well, I can offer no comfort in that regard. I am as oblivious as you are."

Balthier sighed at this and leaned his head against the wall. Casually, he let his eyes wander over the accumulating crowd. There was a family waiting for the airship. The mother attempted to console her toddler who was squalling in dissatisfaction; nothing her mother did seemed to quiet her. Balthier winced against the noise. _I hope any child of mine does not scream like that. _He noticed a pair of Bangaas also looking at the child with irritation, even as they demonstrated more patience than he thought they had. There were several Seeqs all standing a part from each other, and of course numerous other humes. He thought he recognized several people from Clan Centurio. There were even two viera present. _No moogles though. I'm surprised, _he thought and then his mind conjured an image of Nono. He hadn't seen the fellow in a month, when he last went to check on his _Strahl. Damn, I need to look at my ship again. Not enough time either, _he thought as he pulled out the pocket watch again.

The next three hours were quite possibly the dullest three hours in his life. Not even his Academy days spent studying and doing his Judgely duties could compare to this. There was simply silence. _I suppose I can catch up on my sleep then, _he thought leaning against the wall of the compartment. His eyes rolled shut and after a few minutes of listening to Marskot breathe his conscience finally let go of reality.

He started awake when he heard Marskot whimper. The Dorstonian was curled up on the seat no different than when he had drifted off, but his face was pained and Balthier could see his eyes moving beneath his eyelids. He shifted slightly and whimpered to the point where the consort thought he was sobbing.

Balthier leaned over and began prodding his friend. "Marskot, wake up! It's just a dream. Marskot!" He was less gentle as he continued to shake him. Then suddenly Marskot grabbed his hand and had balled his other hand into a fist ready to attack, but when he saw it was him he relaxed.

"Sorry about that. Habit," he said as he sank back into the wall.

Balthier shook the wrist that had been grabbed and merely gave his friend a long scrutinizing look. "What were you dreaming of this time? That sounded like more than just wandering through a mansion." 

Marskot pointedly stared out the window. After a minute or so he turned to Balthier and said, "It was nothing."

Balthier frowned at him. "Marskot, I am trying to help you! I cannot do that if you are keeping me in the dark. Now what is it?"

"It is nothing!" Marskot glared in irritation, but then he pulled in his temper, released a deep breath, and said, "I am sure it was simply a plain old nightmare. You know the ones where something kills you."

Balthier was certain this wasn't the entire truth but it would be enough for now. After the Bahamut he had suffered his share of homicidal dreams. He had always found it odd that none of his imaginary deaths were by airship or at the hands of a civilized creature, but in the claws and jaws of monsters. An inordinate amount of them were sea monsters; he never recalled having a fear of the sea or the creatures there. The palace doctors had simply passed it off as shell shock, but he continued to experience them to this day. _At least it has been a couple of months, _he thought.

Balthier managed to fall asleep and blissfully dream of nothing for the rest of the flight, and he was pleased when he woke up to see Marskot had apparently slept as soundly as he. Marskot grinned at him as he stretched and prepared to disembark, clearly in a far better mood. "Are you ready to suffer many a sleepless night, Balthier?'

"I'm not looking forward to it," Balthier replied, grabbing his pack from the floor and walking out the door. It was midsummer when they left Dalmasca and it was no less hot in Rozarria. In fact it was downright stifling. _Gods, the humidity is unbearable, _Balthier thought and he heard Marskot cough when the wave of heat washed over him.

"This is going to be like back in Golmore."

_There are probably going to be as few baths on this trip as that one, _Balthier grumbled to himself.

Balthier looked around at the dense forest surrounding the aerodrome and sighed in disappointment. He had hoped to avoid Rozarria as much as possible in his life. With the exception of a few stately visits with Ashe he thought he would do well, but now that he was bound to spend at least a month there, he imagined he would have to establish a new goal. _Marskot detests Al-Cid as much as I do. Maybe my new goal can be not to see him on this trip. _It was certainly plausible since the foppish twit spent most of his time in Rabanastre_–flirting with my wife behind my back! _The thought alone caused Balthier to clench his fists and growl, but there was really nothing he could do about it.

He and Marskot spent the next hour shopping for their food in the market at a town situated on the northern border of Rozarria, about the same size as Nalbina. Pervone was rather quaint in its setting, a small town settled in the middle of a forest with several streams cutting through. The general public was able to walk over the overarching bridges of the waterways, but he found it amusing that several people canoed along them. Its denizens dressed little different from the Rabanastren people. Most all of the humes had skin color similar to Al-Cid, but only a few wore their hair long. Balthier found them much easier and far more pleasant to converse with.

"Why is it that moogles are usually the ones renting out chocobos? You would think a larger creature might prefer to handle them," Marskot whispered to Balthier in innocent curiosity.

"I am not sure, but this is not going to be cheap," Balthier said.

"Hello there, good sirs! What can I do for you, kupo?" The cream-furred Moogle said as she looked only slightly up from her vantage point on the fence.

"Yes, we would like to buy a chocobo, if you please," the consort said.

"Buy you say? I have only a limited supply of chocobos to rent, kupo. My income would decrease without one. You will have to rent." Balthier pulled out a thick wad of gil bound by a cord. "Or perhaps we can come to an arrangement."

"Four thousand for a chocobo," Balthier said, really hoping the furry creature did not follow her second nature and haggle.

The Moogle hesitated, undoubtedly doing some calculations in her tiny little head. "Five thousand, kupo, and you have a deal, sir!"

Balthier initially winced when she opened her mouth, but then he smoothed his features over hearing the figure. It was still reasonably priced and they were certainly not strapped for funds. "Done!" The consort counted the gil carefully and handed it over to the moogle and she took it with a curtsy.

Balthier walked a few paces back to Marskot while they waited for her to set them up and Marskot asked, "How much was it?"

"Five thousand," he said quietly, keeping his eye out for conspicuous bystanders.

Marskot blinked at first, but then he slowly nodded his head and said, "That's reasonable."

"Reasonable enough. I would prefer that we leave soon."

"Agreed. I have had enough fooling around. Let's get out of here."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Balthier still found little more objectionable about the Rozarrian countryside. It was far more pleasant to travel through than the Sandseas. The most unpleasant experiences in the first day were the horrendous amount of gnats and flies, and then the gigantic python that had dropped on them. It had looked very similar to the one he owned, but it was twenty feet long and it had opened its jaws wide enough to swallow his head. He knocked it away and they stepped up their pace to leave it far behind. Since then the jungle had been extraordinarily calm.

"Are you certain we're going the right way?" Balthier asked, glancing back at the chocobo that bobbed behind them unfazed by the weight they had laden it with. He had to give it to Marskot, buying the bird had been a good idea. He had few complaints.

"You heard the man. He said it would be a day's walk. It hasn't even been half a day. He said the path was overgrown; this is less thick than the rest of the forest and the compass aligns. C'mon, Balthier, have faith in me," Marskot said and he gave him a wry smile.

"I do have faith in you. Really I do. I simply do not want to waste time," Balthier said and the chocobo seemed to coo in agreement.

"Try not to worry. I will not keep you," he said. They had continued to walk until the evening and after making dinner, they retired without setting a watch. Even though it was the two of them, Balthier rather liked the set up. Far utensils to clean, less to pack every morning, only one tent to roll, and they did not even have to carry anything save their weapons. _Why couldn't we have done this three years ago? _To be honest, it really had not crossed his mind and he doubted it had crossed the others' minds.

The morning had started out bright and warm, and before midday they could feel the humidity begin to heat up around them like they were in a greenhouse. Balthier pulled at the collar of his shirt and wiped the sweat from his neck and brow before he asked, "Marskot, how are we doing?"

"If we do not reach the mansion by mid-afternoon at the latest, I'll rethink my path," Marskot said. As he walked on, Marskot slipped his tin whistle into his hand and fluted some tunes for their pleasure.

Balthier found this tromp through the woods a refreshing change from the hectic and boorish life in the palace. He loved Ashe, but he had made it clear he would need to escape from time to time. The first time he had done this, he had rejoined Fran and the children for a little treasure hunting on the _Strahl_. As Balthier and Fran had botched their last job—stealing the Dawn Shard—they somehow managed to botch this one as well. They flew into the Deadlands of Nabradia to visit the ancient temple of the god Erros, ruling deity of the heavens. While Nabudis had been obliterated, the rest of the country remained intact, if not overrun with lush jungle.

Being in the Temple had once again caused him to hearken back to the days of poking around Raithwall's Tomb. They did not meet Demon Walls, but they met a pair of cycloptic giants with extremely short tempers. A greater part of the internal structure had been destroyed, there wasn't even an Esper, and putting up with Vaan and Penelo's bickering had been all for naught! The next vacation Balthier took he locked himself in his office, laid on a sofa, and watched vids for the day. It was certainly boring, but at the very least it was quiet and relaxing.

Balthier was shaken from his reverie by a nudge and a sharp nip on his arm by the chocobo. "Damn it, Feathers. You are almost more trouble than you're worth," Balthier grumbled as he pulled some Gysahl Greens from a pocket. It was nice to not carry his pack, but the bird made up for it by being an even touchier creature than his cat Artemis. He never thought anything could be worse than her, but she made up for it by being soft and loving. Feathers was obstinate, irritating, and rather smelly. It followed them easily enough but it started that morning with attitude, squawking and snapping in a rather hostile mood. Balthier had almost reached for his gun to put it out of its misery, but Marskot tried a packet of the Greens and that temporarily placated its morning crabbiness.

"I thought you'd be a natural with Feathers. Your cat still grudges me," Marskot said, looking back at them as the bird chomped some more snacks.

"Well, I put up with Artemis' sassiness because you can at least cuddle with her, but I'll be damned if I cuddle with Feathers," Balthier replied as he tugged at the leash.

An hour later they reached the edge of the trees and gazed up in wonder at the once grand mansion before them. "Marskot, are you sure this is the place from your dreams? I know you said rundown, but this is rather ridiculous," Balthier said with a wry look on his face. The man they had talked to for directions had said it had been five years and in a tropical forest the decaying process was far more accelerated. "I have serious doubts we can walk in without falling through the floor."

Balthier expected the house to crumble right in front of his eyes. It leaned and rested heavily on its foundations, and the windows bulged like eyeballs ready to fall out. Balthier had struggled to keep from going soft during his tenure at the palace, but he almost gagged at the ripe odor emanating from it as though several corpses were rotting within. The yard which had once been grand was now filled to bursting with weeds, and wiry trees. Choking vines clung to the house's walls and attempted to pull the once elegant, marble statues into the ground.

"We must be careful then. C'mon let's get this over with," Marskot muttered, dropping back to pull out a pair of lamps. He handed one to Balthier and then began making his way toward the house. Balthier sighed and tied the Chocobo to the rotting gate and followed.

The inside remained free of plants, but not of insects that crept around the wood paneling, waving their antennae to sample the air. They scattered when the light fell on them. "Cockroaches?" Marskot asked.

"I highly doubt it's simply cockroaches in here. I bet the wood is infested with termites," Balthier grumbled as he shone his light along the ceiling just in time to see a gigantic centipede disappear into the woodwork. "Now, Marskot, does this place look like anything out of your dreams?"

"The bugs do, unfortunately, bring back unpleasant memories," he said as he stepped forward as his eyes roved around the room. In the entrance hall they were greeted by a giant staircase that wound upward. Glancing at their feet they could see a rich, plush carpet had once led from the door to the stairs, but it was in rags and as Balthier stepped on it he thought he might have heard the fresh crunch of bugs underfoot. The granite that lay on the floor where the carpet wasn't was still largely intact but the polish had worn off and it was scuffed and scratched to imply that more than bugs lived in these ruins.

They wandered around the first floor, visiting those rooms first and hardly finding anything other than insects. They panted for breath in the thick, stale air and further gagged when the rotting smell intsensified. Balthier was puzzled though at the state of the house, as though everyone had dropped everything and abruptly left. A pot had been left on the stove which was now effectively covered in fungi, and a knife and cutting board had been left out. The food had long been consumed but the knife still appeared to be in good shape and Balthier gingerly picked it up to examine it. Its handle was not that of wood so it remained free of holes that other insects would have bored into it and the blade was only slightly grimy. He carefully slashed the counter to check its sharpness and was mildly surprised to see it had left a mark. _It might be worth keeping, _Balthier thought and he pocketed it.

"I'm going upstairs. I do not see anything of interest down here," Marskot said, passing through the kitchen.

"Be careful. The second floor is not made of stone," Balthier replied turning to follow him. The first step on the stairs generated a terrible growling from the house and they listened to it as it finally faded away. Marskot glanced back at him with a puzzled frown but Balthier only shrugged. He continued upward regardless. His boot ran through one step, but the rest of the stairs held up remarkably well, and the consort followed his steps.

"The floor is out over there." Marskot pointed his lamp to the left, and then he turned to the right. He suddenly stopped and asked, "Can you feel that? That closeness in the air?"

Balthier did not answer him, but walking into the mansion had felt akin to walking through the Feywood, and even Giruvegan. The Mist could not be seen swirling as thick as the Feywood, but he wagered that if he had brought Fran along she would mention something of the Mist.

_Fran._ Oh, how he missed her quiet companionship and wisdom. If Marskot had not set out so quickly after asking him for help, he in all likelihood would have attempted to track the Viera down and ask her what she made of the situation. Yet she was off on her own and it would have taken weeks to find her whereabouts. _I hope you are doing well, wherever you are, Fran, _he thought.

The consort stepped into what he thought must have been an office except the roof had fallen in, allowing a patch of sunlight to penetrate the heavy air. A cool breeze blew in through the gap and he breathed the sweet air with relief. His light roved the walls as he looked for some clue as to the reason for its desertion. He looked back when he heard the creak of the door and furrowed his brow when the latching clicked shut.

"What the hell?" He rested his hand on the fading handle and pressed down on the latch to let himself out, but it refused to budge. _Oh Gods, do not tell me I am stuck in here._ He stepped back and ploughed his shoulder into it but still it remained steadfast. Balthier stepped back and eyed the door suspiciously. "What the _hell_?" He repeated. _As weak as the wood is there is no way that door can stand up to my shoulder. Well, this better remedy it, _he thought and pulled his gun from the holster at his thigh, and he aimed it. "Marskot, stay out of the path of this door!"

_Crack!_ The shot went clean through the latch and Balthier kicked it open, nearly taking the door off of its hinges. Balthier swung his gun around to see if there was a culprit that held it open, but the hall was empty except for a Marskot who look at him with wide eyes.

"The door got stuck."

"Did you have to shoot it open?"

"I put my shoulder on it but it wouldn't budge," Balthier said and glared at Marskot. _I do not pull my gun out for no reason!_

"No matter. Nothing seems to be here. It's just an old mansion, although why they would leave it in such a hurry is beyond me," Marskot said as he walked down the stairs and out the front door.

Balthier sighed as he stepped out into the sunlight and shook his head. "'Twas all for naught! I hope the next few mansions are not like this. Yeowch!" He clutched his arm as feathers nibbled on it to get his Gysahl Greens. "Marskot, you look downtrodden. It's not because of the house's emptiness, is it?"

"No…well, not entirely. I am a little disappointed with no answers, but it was to be expected. I really did not like that place though. Too mysterious, the air was too close like we were in a tomb. That house is not old enough for the air to be that thick. I get the feeling another power was at work," he said, staring at the ground in thought as he rubbed an arm with one hand.

"Yes, and my luck began turning bad when the door locked behind me," he said and rolled his eyes. "It was just your imagination. You have no proof that there was another power at work."

"Well, believe what you want. I believe differently."

"All right, then let us leave. There is nothing here and I'm sure we have a long way to go to the next house."

"Not _too_ long. Maybe a three days walk, Marskot said as he opened up his map and laid the compass down on it. Yes, let's see…it is southwest that way. We will be heading through the Amaia Forest."

_The Amaia Forest? Now why does that ring familiar? _Balthier wondered as he untied Feathers' leash and he began following his friend once more. _In all likelihood 'tis nothing._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Two years of being the prince-consort had allowed Balthier to practice the skill of knowing when to keep his mouth shut and when to open it. Ashe had received grief for it as though he was her pet, and he in turn got lectured. At the moment he was chewing his lip so ferociously he was surprised it wasn't bleeding.

It had rained continuously the last two days they had traveled. Balthier's only complaint was that Feathers had started to smell like rotting wet leaves, and it seemed no matter what they did the stink would not lift. But even that did not make Balthier want to kill something more than the gangly person standing before them now.

"Let's go, Marskot. I will not pay seven thousand for a guide!" He said, giving the boy a deathly glare. His only response was to continue to smile smugly.

Caught between Balthier's temper and the boy's smugness, Marskot heaved a heavy and weary sigh. They needed a guide and this boy was the only person in the village who was willing to take them through Amaia Forest. They had already been versed several times in the village's superstitions and although Ashe might scold him for being rude, Balthier couldn't help but snort in exasperation. _Myths! That is all they are, _he grumbled to himself. He and Marskot were haggling with the boy just a field away from it, and it hardly looked foreboding.

It was because of those superstitions that Baron Al-Kur Rossince had decided to build his mansion in it, to prove that it was all a fairytale. So the building had been made without a hitch, but the occupants had only managed to last three nights in it before they were found slaughtered, their remains littering the house. The villagers immediately assumed a monster haunted the woods and stayed out of it. If it was supposed to make them afraid, it had only piqued Balthier's interest. _What would have slaughtered a family in such a grisly way? _His mind forcibly fell back onto the bounty hunter report Geoffrey had shown him before he had left and he shuddered.

"How about this, boy, we'll pay you half now and the rest of it when you lead us out of the forest," Marskot said. Originally his eyes had been clouded with indecision, but now they were hard and unsympathetic points. If the boy did not take the offer, they would go on alone and he would miss seven thousand Gil.

"Done!" The boy held out his grubby hand which Marskot shook. "The name's Dirk."

The Dorstonian did not answer, but took one of his many coin pouches and started counting Gil before he poured it into the boy's hands. "We are leaving as soon as we replenish our rations. Meet us here at the edge of the field."

The boy was not out of earshot before Balthier said, "Seven thousand for a guide. Absolutely pathetic, Marskot. We've gotten a little side-tracked, but nothing that require us to spend that kind of money for a little boy to show us around."

"Perhaps, but I'd rather not risk getting lost in this forest. I have a bad feeling," Marskot said as he looked at the map in his hands.

"I bet it is simply your imagination. The odds are that nothing will happen," Balthier said with a reassuring smile, though he still ached inside over the loss of gil. At least it wasn't his money. It was stashed elsewhere. _And on that note, I'll be keeping a close eye on our packs in case the guide has sticky fingers, _Balthier thought. He grimaced at the thought because he did not wish to suffer insomnia for however long they would need the little weasel.

An hour later they were carving a path through the field to the edge of the Amaia Forest that awaited them quietly. Balthier titled his head in curiosity as he brought up the rear once more with Feathers. The chocobo unexpectedly threw no tantrums when they started off, and he plodded along with a steady and easy bobbing. _This is the Amaia forest? Hardly worth a fuss. It appears quite peaceful, _the prince-consort thought as he entered. He was immediately struck by the almost complete darkness and peered up curiously at the canopy to see only sparkles of light much like stars trickling through. The spectacle had immediately caused memories of the Feywood to bubble to his mind, with its shifting fog and their wobbly appearance reflected back at them as they walked. But there was nothing. A couple of birds chirped, but otherwise all was calm.

"Pathetic," Balthier said under his breath. It did not go unnoticed. The boy had turned to look back at him with strangely solemn eyes until Balthier realized that his smugness had merely been a front. Dirk was utterly terrified. "So far, I must say, I am not impressed."

"You just wait. In a day or two you'll be wishing you never stepped foot in here."

"You can't scare me, boy. I've dealt with far more frightening things than the dark," Balthier said, smirking at him with certainty. He had battled magical dragons, more than three Archadian Judges, and stood against Vayne in his Nethicite-induced state. _What more could the world throw at me? _

"There is a monster here. He owns this forest. If we are lucky, we may pass unnoticed but we must be quiet. No more talking after this," he said, putting a finger to his lips as though the consort could not understand.

Balthier rolled his eyes, but his previous training on the art of tactful silence arose to his mind and he kept his lips sealed. As the sun was unavailable to gauge time, they could only keep track of it via lantern oil which would need replenished every three hours. When the third lamp was wavering in its last minutes of brightness, Marskot had them break camp. They set it down and staked one tent in the dying light and finally crawled in. It was meant only for two people so they were slightly cramped, but the consort refused to let the boy stay out on his own. Those sticky fingers would go nowhere near the bags if he was stuck between him and Marskot.

He would never let it show, but after several hours in the forest Balthier began to grow increasingly uneasy. It was too quiet, too still. The couple of birds they heard chirping had long fallen behind them, and now it was simply dead silence. It was as if there were no animals in the forest, unlike the day they met a python and were mobbed by mosquitoes. Not even a blade of grass twitched here.

It was as Balthier's head was touching the ground that he suddenly remembered why Amaia sounded so familiar. "Oh shit," he said.

"What is it?" Marskot asked drowsily.

"I knew Amaia was familiar. This is where Ba'Gamnan died," Balthier replied. He threw back the blankets and grabbed his gun, halting only to load it with shot before he stepped outside.

"Wait, where are you going?" Marskot asked.

"I am not letting our tent remain unguarded through the night," Balthier said, his brow furrowed in worry now. He no longer cared if Dirk was smirking knowingly; he was now fully alert to shoot anything that moved. When he settled himself in front of the tent, he was forcibly reminded of the group's nights three years ago but those were for more relaxed. Then there had been six, and now two. He could not count the boy. He had no weapons training and would be utterly useless in a fight.

_Crunch_. Balthier whirled on the sound with his gun drawn, but then saw the vague out-line of the chocobo scratching around. He relaxed a little more and continued to look around the area, but he could hardly see the nearest tree, the forest was so dark. The hours dragged on as he sat there, waiting for something to happen and when it did not his initial adrenaline began to wear off and he could feel his exhaustion taking over.

_Oh please, I've stayed up later than this in my youth. How can I not seem to now? _To be fair to himself he had not slept well the past two nights, and every day they would walk about ten miles worth. He certainly had a right—

Feathers suddenly squawked and Balthier leapt to his feet with his gun aimed just beyond the trees. The chocobo scratched the ground and shuffled and ruffled its feathers in irritation. Balthier knew something was here but he could see nothing! "Come out, come out," he growled beneath his breath, straining his eyes to catch a glimpse of something, anything! The leaves rustled above—

_Crack! _The sound of his shot was sharply loud before the forest muffled its cry, and he stared at the shredded leaves and waited.

"What is it?!" Marskot threw the tent flap back and stumbled out as he hurried to his friend's side. The consort's ears were still ringing from the noise and instead of being reassured, his eyes continued to scan above.

"There's something here," Balthier said. He knew it. He could feel its eyes burning into the back of his head, but every time he turned around there was nothing!

Marskot looked around with him and when he shivered Balthier thought it was because he could feel its presence as well. The consort glanced over at the chocobo and frowned tersely when he saw it had stopped fidgeting anxiously. Whatever it was had left.

"You look pretty tired. Why don't you get some sleep? I'll watch the rest of the night," Marskot said, rubbing at his eyes.

Balthier studied him carefully. It looked like Marskot had not slept well in the few hours that had been granted to him, and now his partner was claiming there was a viable danger outside of the camp. It was testing his nerves. _Next time I don't think I'll criticize him so quickly over those bad feelings he was having earlier, _Balthier thought. As there was no sign of anything that had been present, he might as well have been hallucinating, too. He stood there considering contending Marskot's suggestion, but then he curtly nodded and turned around to crawl into the tent.

Once inside Balthier met a pair of gleaming eyes that were crinkled in mirth. "I was right. There is a monster here. I warned you," Dirk said.

"Boy, if it is indeed hostile, you are in as much danger as we are. We must tread quietly. Especially you. You're louder than the chocobo," Balthier said and turned his back on the boy. As tired as he was, it was still an hour or so before Balthier managed to fall asleep again. All he could think of was Ba'Gamnan's shredded remains and a huge monster with a mouth wide enough to swallow him whole.

"Sir. Sir, wake up!" Balthier was unhappily brought to consciousness by the grubby boy who was shaking his shoulder vigorously. The boy cowered slightly at his glare before Balthier sighed, and his hand let go of his gun.

"What is it?"

"Sir Remor wants to break camp," Dirk replied.

Balthier stared at him with a bewildered expression for a second before he nodded and said, "I appreciate it. I'll get the blankets." Dirk left and Balthier simply gazed around at the tent canvas in exhaustion. He felt like he hadn't slept at all. _I think I am ready to return to my queen and our bed, _he mused to himself with a shake of his head, before he finally wrenched the warm blankets off and carefully rolled them.

They had a nice breakfast of dried meat, apples that needed eaten, and a couple slices of bread a piece. Normally Balthier would have argued for rationing, but the stillness of the forest had them uneasy enough he dared not dispute it.

When they began that morning, Dirk led in the front and navigated the forest after looking at a map. "We're here," he said, pointing to the lower southwest corner. "The Sagarif River should only be about half a days walk to our left. The mansion you're looking for is here, a little more than half a day to the east. We continue forward." He folded the map back into his pocket and continued from their camping spot.

"Well, how was your watch last night?" Balthier asked Marskot while dragging the chocobo in a quickened pace.

Marskot blinked slowly and looked at him for a moment, as though he had not quite heard what his friend had said. He didn't bother hiding a gigantic yawn before he said, "It was really strange last night. I can understand why you were leery. The chocobo got edgy about an hour after you had gone to bed, but I couldn't see anything! It did feel like there was something nearby, but why it didn't attack us is beyond me. It certainly didn't feel like a neutral presence."

Balthier nodded with his mouth drawn into a line. He was relieved to hear that he was not losing his mind, but his body was still wound tight from…was it fear? _Get a hold of yourself! You're the leading man, and he must not allow any fancy of fear to cow him. _Whatever it was that was stalking them, he would deal with it later.

The only hints that the sun had risen were occasional sparkles of light that began twinkling through the impenetrable foliage overhead. While they were walking, Marskot suddenly turned off the lamp he had been carrying and they discovered there was enough natural light to see dim out-lines of trees and roots resting in their path.

For the remainder of the day they were able to walk without any disturbances, although it took some negotiating to find the right path. On two occasions they were forced to double back to find an easier way through the thick brush. Just when Marskot pulled the lamp out to substitute for the failing light, Balthier asked, "I thought this was only half a day's walk."

"I may have underestimated, but I'm sure we're close," Marskot said, looking back at Balthier even as he and the boy consulted the map. "Thrait, if we could walk a straight path, I guarantee we'd be there now."

His tone suggested Balthier should not press further and he obeyed. He switched hands to tug Feathers along and gratefully shook out his left arm. He was about ready to press the boy into service to drag the chocobo when Dirk said, "Look!"

Balthier caught glimpses through the branches, but soon the trees gave away to a smoky clearing and a Manse so great he was reminded of the grandeur of Archades. The Baron Al-Kur had most certainly been bold, for the building rose up three stories and its arms stretched far enough to disappear into the dusk mist.

"Should we break camp and explore it tomorrow?" Balthier asked.

"No." Balthier looked at Marskot with a little surprise. The Dorstonian's cheery façade had fallen away to an expression far grimmer. "I don't like it here. We need to get in and get out."

"Very well. This is your expedition," Balthier replied and walked back to tie feathers to the rusty front gate. He grabbed the lamps and handed one to Marskot.

The prince-consort let out a breath at the grand entrance hall. The ceiling seemed to stretch up beyond his vision, but for all its scale the grandeur of its furnishings had faded away, leaving it a hollow of what it was. The tapestries hung in moth-eaten tatters and the once red carpet had darkened to some hideous color and was now hardened like a rock.

Balthier moved the light along the staircase in front of them to the ceiling. He was surprised to see there were almost no insects residing here in comparison to the first mansion, although it was just as damp. Nothing stirred save for the wispy clouds of fog hovering near the ceiling.

"We'll check upstairs first. You stay here," Marskot said to the boy. He looked about to protest, but a single glare shut his jaws and he stared at them in fury. "Let's go, Thrait."

The stairs gave a loud groan underfoot, but Balthier was glad it appeared far firmer to climb than in the last mansion. He couldn't foresee either of them falling through it. Once upstairs, Balthier looked both ways down the hall and asked, "Should we split up? We can cover ground faster."

"No," Marskot said. "I think we should stick together."

"But—" He gave him a glare, too, and Balthier just shrugged.

Marskot turned to the right and went into the far door with Balthier in tow. The prince-consort looked around, looking at the faded stone of the walls and the scraps of cloth hanging over each piece of furniture. He also noted Marskot's changing expression that ranged from puzzling frowns to hostile ones. Balthier shook his head and swung his light and stopped. Hanging on the wall was a blue tapestry that looked like it might have been quite beautiful at one point in time, but right in the middle were four gashes like a creature had raked its claws through it. He turned to see Marskot had not stopped and he hurried to catch up to him, his unease growing.

"What feel you?"

"Terrible. We're going to search one more room and then I would suggest we get out of here. I don't like this place at all."

Marskot took a left turn and opened a pair of double doors to a large room and both of them drew in stunned breaths at what they saw.

Dirk kicked a stray wooden leg that had been attached to a chair sometime ago. He had been terrified to enter this forest, and the night had done little to allay his fears, but _nothing_ had happened on the walk here. _Cruddy Nobles and their wads of gil. The commonfolk deserve it more than they for our hard work. I bet there's nothing here worth getting a fuss over._

Both of the men had been mum on why they were here. Originally the boy thought they were simply interested in defying all of the superstitions surrounding this place and showing what country bumpkins the people in Tuolos were. He was surprised at how weary the pair had become since the strangeness of the night. Whoever they were, they were not simply nobles. They were experienced in the way of dealing with fiends and in camping, almost like soldiers but they hardly appeared it.

_Raarwk. _ Dirk's head shot up to stare out the windows. Night had fallen in just the little time they had been there and he could see nothing. _Just the chocobo startled by some noise. Nothing to worry about._ The boy brought out a piece of paper and tobacco and began rolling it into a cigarette. _A little smoke could do no harm while I wait. They could be searching here for hours. _Dirk brought out a match and swiped it against the staircase and lit the cigarette, taking a heavy drag of it as soon as it was lit.

_Clonk!_ He whirled around and stared at the scattered wood near a window on the other side of the room. His heart began to pound in his chest even as he thought, _It was just an animal. _But his adrenaline increased and the hairs stood on the back of his neck. There was something here and it was watching him.

A whisper of sound caused him to turn his head and he glimpsed a dark shape rushing toward him, before it grabbed his neck. Dirk barely felt the whisper of metal along his skin and when he opened his mouth to scream, he gurgled. Blood ran down his shirt like a waterfall and when the creature let go of him he fell to the floor. The last thing he saw before he died was it raising its nose to sniff the air, its eyes locked onto the double doors just at the top of the stairs.

There were few things in the world that could leave Balthier speechless and one of them just happened to be in that ballroom. Their lanterns shined upon rows and rows of statues in various poses, but there was something about these statues that sent a shiver down Balthier's spine. He couldn't quite place why he was speechless until he saw him.

That old Ba'Gamnan had been so intent on catching Balthier years before. Now his ugly face was forever caught in a vicious snarl, his glazed eyes no longer able to see anyone ever again. "Oh gods…" Balthier wasn't even sure which one of them uttered that phrase as he stepped back at Ba'Gamnan's visage. Once again Geoffrey's report rushed back to him and he looked around at some of the other statues. _Geoffrey was right. All those bounty hunter disappearances are connected, _Balthier thought. There was the gigantic hume Errix the Two-Sword with said swords in hand, but he was forever trapped in one position, never to use those swords on anyone again. Malus the Violent's tusks were twice as big as a normal Seeq's, but they had not helped save him in the end.

"Marskot, Geoffrey said there was something killing some of the bounty hunters. This must be its home," Balthier said in a hushed voice. He could feel his senses come alive as he tried to keep panic from overtaking him. "We need to get out of here."

"Yes," Marskot replied numbly. Balthier turned toward the door and halted.

There it stood in the weak light of their lanterns. Balthier almost thought it was a statue itself, but he could see its chest slightly rise and fall with each breath. Balthier had never seen a creature quite like it. It glared back at them with pitch black eyes and it wore a fitting jacket of some fine material. Its body, however, was covered from head to toe in thick, long auburn fur and its face was lengthened into the snout of what looked like a wolf but it stood on two feet. Even from this distance Balthier could tell it wasn't any taller than he was, yet when he drew his gun to aim at it he never considered that he would have a chance against it. Then Balthier saw the knife clutched in its left paw and it was dripping with blood.

_Crack!_

Balthier and Marskot had turned to run out the other side of the room before the shot even made it to the creature, and it gave a terrible roar before they could hear its footsteps heading after them. "Split up," Balthier shouted and they charged in opposite directions from each other after they shut the other pair of doors. The prince-consort heard the doors splinter and crash against the wall as the creature bowled through them, and then he heard its footsteps…following him.

_Gods damn it, _Balthier thought and tried to push all else outside of his mind as he barreled down the hall. He saw the railing of an inside balcony appear, and he did not hesitate to jump over it onto the floor below. He stumbled a little upon landing and pumped his legs faster to get away from the creature as it landed just behind him. _I'm not going to make it. _ But then he darted through a side door and propped an old chair against the doorknob.

The first crash nearly dislodged the chair from its place and Balthier felt his heart nearly stop in his chest. _Close. Too close. _He glanced around for the window he had hoped was here and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it. He took a cobwebbed globe from a nearby desk and threw it at the window.

_Crash, crunch, crack._

The creature was so powerful the hinges of the door were already splintering apart and Balthier did not hesitate to dive out the window. The prince-consort heard the door finally fall to the floor, and just as he was getting to his feet he felt a vice grab his leg and he could feel blood oozing down it as the creature's claws dug in for a better grip. Then slowly, he felt it pulling him back in.

Balthier left ten gouges into the ground as he clung to it for dear life, but still it was dragging him back inside. _Gods damn it! I'm going to become one of those statues in his room! No! _"Help! Somebody, help me," Balthier screamed. In the back of his mind he felt foolish for doing so, but it was his only chance to get away.

"Balthier!" The prince-consort felt his heart leap as Marskot tore around the corner, and then bent down to grab his hands, and soon he was in a tug-of-war between the two. The creature attempted to grab his other leg, but Balthier coiled it and then desperately tried to kick it. He heard a crack as his boot met fur and bone, and then the creature's claws fell away. Even as Balthier struggled to his feet, Marskot was pulling him along and explaining everything at the same time.

"I went back down the way we came and found the boy's and the Chocobo's throats slit. Gods damn it, he never made a sound," Marskot said between breaths as they ran along. They heard its roar from afrar and Balthier glanced back to see if it was following them, but he could see only blackness.

"Jump!" He was brought to his senses again when he saw a gleam in the dark and then he fell through the cold, dark rushing water of the Sagarif.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Basch sat at a local tavern, The Cackling Coyote, and continued to marvel at his good fortune. He had lost Balthier and Marskot in the Amaia as he struggled against the darkness of the forest. He had been ready to head back to Rabanastre and report his failure to the queen, but now that he had found them again he was going to continue to follow.

_I cannot fail this time or she might never trust me again, _he thought and it wasn't one he could bear without a shudder. The guilt for Rasler's death still haunted him to this day, although he was certainly happy the queen had moved on with her life. And once again Ashelia had entrusted her lover's life into his hands. _I will not fail this time._

Basch was glad to see the gods had granted him another chance to ensure Balthier's safety, but their emergence had sparked more than simple gladness from him. Balthier and Marskot had reemerged from the Amaia merely a day and an afternoon after he had lost them, considerably lighter of luggage and constantly looking over their shoulders. _Where is the chocobo they bought and that boy they took with them?_ Basch was awfully tempted to pull Balthier aside and ask him of the circumstances around it, but that would eventually lead to Balthier learning of his spying. And that was bound to make hard feelings between him and Ashe. _I have to be delicate, careful, _Basch cautioned himself as he nursed a surprisingly strong liquor. He could see Balthier through the window, leaning against the inn across the street.

Balthier had his eyes closed against the sun as he attempted to catch up on all the sleep he had lost last night. All was a haze when they had gotten away from the creature by the Sagarif river. He was certain they must have been in there for sometime because he vaguely recalled Marskot talking about floating a few miles before they managed to pull themselves out.

The most noticeable thing he remembered was that the leg grabbed by the creature was sore enough that he had trouble putting weight on it. The creature's claws had only punctured the skin to get a better grip of him, but Balthier wondered if they had been poisoned tipped. Of course, there were a myriad of things it could have been: poisoned tipped claws, shock on Balthier's part, or bacteria from the water. Balthier had retained much of his healing knowledge from the last journey and he was able to heal it to the perfect skin it was before, but even now it continued to ache something awful.

"I talked to the innkeeper and he said the fair was twenty gil per person for a night, and that does not include food," Marskot said when he had come back.

Balthier stirred. "That's hardly extortion," he replied.

"Want me to book a room? It might be wise considering your condition," Marskot said and Balthier frowned.

"No need to cause a fuss. I'm fine!"

Marskt still shook his head. "Your mind isn't as sharp as it was. You're still wandering. We should take it easy tonight and set out in the morning."

"Let's walk around. It might clear my mind," Balthier said coldly.

"All right. We'll do it your way. Why so uneasy? Is this because of the creature?"

Balthier did not reply, but since they had gotten away he had anticipated with each minute that it would find them again. But they had not seen hide nor hair of it since and Balthier could not help but wonder why it was biding its time. He had no doubt that it could track them, whether they had jumped into the river or not, but it left them alone.

_Maybe it stays in that forest alone and never ventures out, _his mind suggested but he shot that down without another thought. He had difficulty believing all of those bounty hunters collected in the ballroom had stumbled into the Amaia. No, it had hunted them down and dragged its prey back without anyone seeing. _Whatever it is, it is not to be underestimated. Stay on your guard and keep to the crowds, _he told himself.

They moved through the crowd with no real purpose, but Balthier gladly distracted himself by allowing his eyes to slide along the stone shops and the intricate signs hanging over each one. The tiny town of Fleta was just as quaint as Pervone without the open air waterways. This town instead prided itself on flowery architect, which drew scores of fascinated people. At the moment the place seemed particularly packed and Balthier thought that perhaps there was a celebration about to go underway, if the festoons of colorful banners and decorations were anything to go by.

_Maybe we should have gone ahead and booked that room, _Balthier thought. But when he glanced backward he was glad they hadn't. The prince-consort froze and for a moment he thought he might actually be in a dream. The only other person not moving stood twenty feet behind him, decked entirely in a faded orange suit with a dark green vest and gloves. The helmet it wore had a lengthened face and Balthier did not need to see it to know precisely what it was. He watched without a change in expression as the creature slowly lifted its gun and aimed it in his direction.

And then Balthier bolted. He ploughed into a particularly thick crowd of people just as it fired the first shot.

_Crack!_

The people screamed and started running every which way in panic. When Balthier looked back, wondering if the creature had actually shot someone else, he realized that the creature had purposely stirred them by firing into the air and now the way was clear for his pursuit. One unfortunate person darted in front of it and he found himself lying in a crumpled heap from a violent push.

Balthier glared at it as it leveled its gun again and then he darted down an alleyway, preying to whatever gods he could think of that it would not catch him again. He abruptly turned left down another alley and felt his limbs pump fast at the sound of a shot hitting the wall just behind him. Balthier found himself out onto the street that was virtually clear of people now.

"Shit," he said under his breath, but he took to his feet again when he felt rather than saw a shadow descend from above. It landed just behind him after taking to the roofs, but it was out of shot and now it ran right behind him struggling to catch him. It was so close Balthier could actually here its exhalations and when it swiped its paw the prince-consort swore he heard the wind part behind him.

_I might not make it through this one, _he thought as he ran headlong down another alley, almost skidding to a halt when he saw the way blocked by a wall. From the closing distance he could tell it was a couple feet taller than he was. _My guts are going to be all over these walls if I don't try anyway. I'll take the shot. _He flung himself at the top edge and couldn't keep from grinning in triumph as he quickly pulled himself up and over the edge. It was so close he heard its claws scraping the ledge he had been on not a second ago.

He stumbled when he hit the ground, but not quite like he did in the mansion and chanced a glance to see the creature had a bit more trouble with its tiny stature, but then it was running strong again. _Damn it, it just won't quit, _Balthier groaned to himself. As fit as he was he could feel his muscles ache from exhaustion and his chest burned with each breath as he continued onward. _I cannot keep this up. Either him or me._

Balthier saw the corner and darted around it, but then he positioned himself right at the edge with his sword in his hands. When he heard the footsteps coming he swung the flat edge of his blade at it. And missed! _Oh shit, _Balthier thought as he saw the creature do a diving roll under, and then lock its mask onto him.

The prince-consort moved before it could and swung the flat of the blade down at the creature's face with enough force that it knocked the helmet off. Blood spurted onto the ground and Balthier looked up to see he had split its nose and lips, but this did not deter it and it swiped a paw at him, leaving four bloody rips in his jacket sleeve. Balthier fell back against the wall, but he switched the sword into his left hand and when the creature moved to pin him swung the sword again and heard a satisfying crack as it connected with its ribs. The creature stumbled and it was enough for Balthier to land a blow in its back, knocking it to the ground.

He began pummeling the creature with all the might he could put behind the sword until he heard his name, "Balthier!"

He looked up to see Marskot staring at him wide-eyed but he only panted and said, "That should keep it from chasing us for a while." Balthier turned when he heard it groan and he gave it another whack to its back to send it to the ground again.

When he stepped back he was surprised to see it was still conscious and glaring up at him with evil eyes. He heard a growl deep in its throat and then to their complete surprise it spoke to them in a hoarse deep voice, "My name is…Sard. I will hunt you down and you will wish you had never been born." It put an emphasis on each syllable.

"A little too hopeful considering the predicament you're in," Balthier replied as he wiped the blood from his sword and sheathed it

It chuckled as it looked up at them, and then its eyes rolled up into its head and it lie there on the ground.

"Maybe we should kill it while we have the chance," Marskot said. For the first time since the night before he actually believed Sard was worth legitimate concern.

"No," Balthier replied. He could see people starting to come back out onto the streets and his mind was quickly becoming muddled after the scratch he had endured. _His claws _must _be soaked in some sort of poison._ "We need to get out of here." He slowly got up from where he had been squatting next to it and wavered on his feet.

Marskot grabbed him. "Easy, Balthier. Take this potion. We need to find something that can counteract whatever he gives you. Come on." He pulled Balthier away and they both stumbled down the street to put as much distance between them and the creature as they could.

_What in the god's names just happened? _Basch tried to ask himself, but even he was having trouble recalling the sequence of events. When Balthier and Marskot had left the inn, Basch hastily paid for his drink and followed them, pulling up the hood he was forced to wear—Balthier would recognized him otherwise—and followed them for some distance. The crowd was thick enough that Basch had trouble keeping him in sight. He had seen the suited figure walk innocuously out of the alleyway and slide his way through the crowd with such ease it was as though he were a snake slithering through a maze of obstacles. Originally he took no notice of it until he saw Balthier turn around and look directly at it, and then it pointed its gun at him.

Balthier felt his throat lock, recalling those five years ago when Rasler had turned to meet the arrow that would kill him. He began shoving people out of the way to tackle the figure, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Balthier vanish and then Basch heard the crack of the figure's gun. Then it too was gone from his sight.

Panic had ensued and Basch had been unable to keep up with either Balthier or the figure. He saw it dart down an alley and he followed. His heart leapt again when he heard another crack from its gun and half-expected to find Balthier lying dead on the ground, but when he rounded the corner he found nothing and breathed a sigh of relief. _I've lost them. Damn it! Where could they be. _Basch caught a glimpse from the corner of his eye and looked up. _How did that person get on the roof so fast? _It was gone from his line of vision in an instant, and then Basch found himself lost in the alleyways behind the stores and houses trying to find Balthier and it again. He was grateful there were no more gunshots that he could hear and when eventually reemerged he could see the crowds had returned to the streets as well. But Balthier had slipped from his sight _again_.

_Where could he be? _Basch thought to himself and started back up the street to find any evidence to where he might have gone this time. He could see a crowd gathered near an alleyway and he was able to persuade his way to the front of it to find sizeable smears of blood in that corner.

"You can see it back there," a man whispered to his friend and pointed down the alley. Basch followed his finger to see whatever had been in the suit had crawled its way down the alley and sat motionless against the wall. It was dark, but if the smear of blood heading that way was any indication, Basch imagined it had to have been injured badly.

_Would Balthier stay the night here after what happened today? I doubt it. The aerodrome, _Basch said to himself and was pushing his way out again to try and follow the prince-consort.

"How are you doing?" Marskot asked and Balthier looked at him with slightly glazed eyes.

"I'm not dying, but gods I feel so weak," He mumbled and he so desperately wanted to close his eyes to sleep. They were there at the Aerodrome, but the first flight out wasn't for another three hours. Despite the condition Balthier had left Sard, he could not help but feel anxious at the delay. _He was bluffing for now. He had to be, _the prince-consort tried to tell himself.

"Try to get some rest. It's a five hour flight from here to Dorovan. When we get there we'll get an inn and rest up for the day before we set out again," Marskot said.

Balthier looked at him with as much disbelief he could manage with his current exhaustion. "Even after what happened today and yesterday, you still want to go on? You're unbelievable."

Marskot frowned at him. "Well, pardon me but my nightmares have certainly not abated. This Sard, whoever he is, is not a part of them either. Would you rather I send you back to Rabanastre?"

"And you would go on alone?" Balthier did not like the sound of that. _What if Sard came for him? He wouldn't stand a chance alone. I would be dead _now_ if it weren't for Marskot. _"I don't think so, Marskot. It's not worth you getting yourself killed over it."

"Maybe you think it's not," Marskot said coldly. "I will figure out what the hell is going on even if it does kill me."

Balthier sighed and replied, "Fine, I'll go with you. Now leave me alone so I can sleep."

"Balthier, wake up." He opened his eyes to find Sard standing before him with his gun pointed at his head. "Wake up."

He jolted awake and grabbed at the hand on his shoulder and glared up into Marskot's face. "Oh, it's you," Balthier said, trying to shake his head of the creature. _Am I really that afraid of it? _

"We're boarding the ship now. Can you stand?" The Dorstonian asked and held a hand out for him to get up.

Balthier took it but once he was on his feet, he let go of it and rubbed at his forehead. "Please, Marskot, I'm not so weak that I can't walk onto the ship." The world spun a little in his eyes, but he was able to shake it off. When he sat down he opened his jacket to look at the scratches on his arm and winced. The potion had actually done something for the poison, but the claw mark on his arm had merely stopped bleeding and still gleamed angrily at him. He would need to bandage it until his mind was sound enough to heal it.

"Maybe I should send you back to Rabanastre," Marskot said as he entered their compartment and shook his head.

"I'm fine. I just need to sleep off the effects of this drug is all."

Balthier turned away to look out the window, sick of having these now constant arguments with Marskot. In the time it had taken them to get away and for their flight to arrive, night had fallen in as pitch black as a cave underground. But he had survived another day and that thought alone disturbed him. _Survived? I should hardly be hoping to survive the day, I should know I will survive, _he mused but this Sard character had completely taken him and Marskot off guard. Who was he really? Why was he chasing them? Was it because they had trespassed onto his property and seen things they shouldn't have? _But he was following us before we even got into the mansion. Why did he never strike? _That was a question that would haunt him. Now he knew the chocobo had been disturbed by that creature's appearance and now Balthier had the distinct impression that it had intentionally dropped by to spook them all. It had merely been playing with them.

_Clump! _The window cracked and Balthier jumped so high he thought his head might hit the apartment. _Crack! Whump! _The hammer landed at his feet and before either he or Marskot could get beyond surprise Sard had grabbed his shoulder and sunk his claws into it, attempting to drag him out of the ship's window.

"Aagggh!" Balthier screamed and tried to tug himself away from the claws. Marskot caught a hold of his other arm and the prince-consort once again found himself in a tug-of-war. _This doesn't make sense! The ship has already taken off! I beat the shit out of him this afternoon, so why is here now? What kind of monster is he?_ It felt like a dream to be back in the clutches of that creature, but he refused to go without another fight.

He yanked his arm from its grip and as it tried to reach for him again, he grabbed his gun and smashed it into its face. _Crack, crunch! _Two hits was all it needed before its claws slid from his sleeve and it fell. Balthier peered out the window but the darkness had completely swallowed him up.

"He _must_ be dead now," Marskot said.

But as Balthier looked down into the empty darkness below, he shook his head and replied, "I don't think that's the last we'll see of him."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"We should get going now. I asked the innkeeper about chocobos and he said there was a dealer just around the corner," Marskot said. When Balthier continued to stare blankly at the poster board he leaned in and said, "Balthier?"

"Why is it chasing me? I have no bounty on my head," Balthier replied. His eyes wandered over the posters on the board. He saw a pair of posters with a distinct likeness to Vaan and Penelo and he chuckled. Their bounties were tiny, hardly worth a headhunter's time. They still had a ways to go before their prices would be as astronomical as his was. When he had been a pirate he had found the bounty a source of amusement rather than an annoyance. Would he have thought the same if Sard had been chasing him then?

They had arrived in Dorovan in the very early morning and had hurried to the inn to collapse for the night. A good meal in the morning had done wonders to lift their spirits after nearly two days without food. The only dampeners were the nightmares they were both having now. They had only stumbled upon Sard two nights ago and already he was haunting Balthier's dreams. After he had fallen from the ship, Balthier had gotten to sleep and seen Sard reappear again and again in the worst places. Balthier would be dreaming of Ashe and then the creature would appear and do nothing more than stand there, but it sent him into a panic every time.

"We should probably go," Marskot suggested. He was very somber and Balthier imagined he was rather disturbed by his friend's sudden change in demeanor.

Balthier obliged, having trouble tearing his eyes away from the poster as though there were an answer hidden there. A light rain pattered against their clothes and carved rivulets down their faces as they made their way down the street. Balthier could tell when they were close to the chocobos, because in this rain they developed a similar stench to what Feathers' had.

"We should only rent one this time. We'll ride it as fast as we can to get close the distance quicker and then it can go," Balthier said, "we'll hike the rest of the way to this house of yours. How far is it?"

"About three days. It's in another town that has no aerodrome," Marskot said. "It's also not abandoned in the wilderness."

Balthier merely nodded and then stepped up to the chocobo dealer—a dark-furred moogle oddly enough—and said, "We want to rent a chocobo. Just one."

"Just one? You can rent two for just 1,200 gil altoge—" It fell silent at the look Balthier gave it, and then said, "One it is. That will be 700 gil."

When that was done they bought a few days worth of food in the form of some fruit, dried biscuits, granola, and dried meats. Less than an hour later found them cutting across the rain-soaked plains to the east. Balthier looked back towards the town and was pleased. If Sard were following them he would have a difficult time staying hidden, lest he crawled underground. _Perfect. Did Marskot intentionally arrange it this way? _No matter, they had a great opportunity to lose Sard.

"Balthier? I wanted to ask you about last night," Marskot suddenly said. He sat rather uncomfortably behind his friend, and he was clutching Balthier's arms so hard they were likely to bruise.

"What about last night?" Balthier asked. He scrubbed the rain from his eyes and nudged the chocobo to go faster.

"You didn't want to go back to Rabanastre because Sard would have followed you there, right?"

"Of course. I have far more to lose now than I did three years ago. I will not take a risk that it could see Ashe…" his mouth got stuck on the word. He did not even want to think about it.

"But…he's dead now! No one could survive that fall from the airship," Marskot told him.

Balthier sighed and said, "I don't think he is dead, Marskot. The ship was only gaining altitude when he attacked us. He probably did not fall that far to the ground."

"What about the guard? Doesn't the Rabanastren palace have plenty of soldiers?"

"Sard has murdered all of those headhunters, all who were very skilled and not to be trifled with in life. You cannot honestly tell me that the guards would be able to stop him," Balthier said. "No, they wouldn't stop him."

"You might be giving him a little too much credit. You have escaped him three times now," Marskot replied.

"Escaped?" Balthier wanted to look behind him at Marskot, but instead he merely shook his head. "Fortune merely favored me," he replied. Marskot sensed the end of the conversation and he fell silent with a sigh.

They did little in the way of talking after that and when dusk had arrived their chocobo stopped abruptly and squawked to let them know it was returning to its master. They immediately began setting up the tent for the night and making a meal of some sort.

It did not take long for Balthier to realize he had developed a sudden habit of looking over his shoulder every now and then. He had not seen Sard back there all day but somehow he knew the bounty hunter was still tracking them, but where he was the prince-consort had little clue.

"I'll take first watch again," Balthier said from where he sat on the ground, loading shot into his gun. His tone brooked no room for argument, and Marskot merely mumbled consent before he climbed into the tent to sleep.

_I almost wish we had bought another chocobo, _Balthier thought as he stared into the darkness. In the Amaia, Feathers had warned them that something was amiss that night but here he was forced to rely on his own weak senses. He strained his eyes in the dark and aimed his gun at every snuffle from a fiendish animal and the swaying of the grass in the wind.

He had no idea when he nodded off only that he jolted awake sometime in the middle of the night. _Pathetic. Balthier, you are not where you used to be. Too long living in luxury, _he chastised himself. How many times had he stayed awake on the _Strahl_ to be certain she flew correctly while on autopilot? More than he could count on two hands, yet now that he had a stationary home and guards to keep the watch he had long fallen out of habit. Terrible.

He was glad to see nothing appeared to have happened while he was asleep. The camp was still in order, and unless this was the afterlife he was still very much alive. He looked out over the grass and saw it stir in the wind again and then nothing. _Maybe we've left him behind after all._ But the prince-consort still roused Marskot for the latter half of the watch.

They were off again at the crack of dawn, moving as quickly as they could through the long grass, and Balthier once again found himself looking over his shoulder every minute. He was convinced now more than ever that Sard was indeed back there, but how far he could not be sure. He was almost certain though that he would never have rented a chocobo. _But does he sleep? We need sleep and we cannot see in the night._ That might very well allow him to catch up with them.

_Perhaps we should have bought another chocobo,_ Balthier mused again. _We could have ridden for a couple of hours at a time to cover ground faster._ But he really had not wanted to deal with a wretched beast again and he imagined that Sard would just kill it like he had Feathers.

They walked at a relentless pace that day, not even stopping for lunch but eating it as they went and neither uttered a word to one another until they broke camp.

"Are you sure he's back there?" Marskot asked as he helped himself to a stew they had thrown together and boiled over a portable stove.

Balthier looked up at him and was unsurprised to see that Marskot had dark circles under his eyes and was looking rather wan and drawn. _Still haunted, _he thought and then he said, "In the span of two days he has already tried to nab me three times. You really think he'll have given up?"

"Perhaps not, but Balthier, you're really not looking well and I wonder if you are simply self-deluding yourself. One of us has to remain sane and that certainly is not me," Marskot replied. If it was meant to be funny, the mirth was not present. Instead there was a barely contained desperation.

The prince-consorts frowned severely at him. "At least you acknowledge that you are a hypocrite. I will gladly admit that I was wrong to imply your feelings were hardly more than a figment of your imagination, and I would appreciate it if you did not assume that my imagination was also playing tricks on me. I, personally, have difficulty believing that Sard is not following me."

"Balthier, I did not want to seem demeaning. Hardly. I can see that you are suffering, maybe even more so than I—"

"I seriously doubt that."

"—but as I said. There needs to be some anchor of sanity to keep us grounded, and I certainly cannot be trusted with that. You know perfectly well I can't," Marskot replied.

"I have the benefit of being able to face an enemy of flesh and blood. Don't worry about me, Marskot," Balthier began, and then the characteristic smirk from days that seemed long past reappeared on his face. "He may have surprised us on the ship, but I hurt him terribly and made him bleed. If he can bleed then he is mortal. Once I figure out what to do, I promise that creature will plagues us no more."

Then Marskot smiled and said, "That is the Balthier I know. I haven't seen him in a couple of days. Glad to see you're back, old friend."

"You should get some sleep, Marskot. You still look worse than I do."

"Goodnight then."

The quest continued as before for the next two days. On the final day just as they were approaching the town, Balthier could see Marskot with his head bowed as he insistently rubbed at his forehead. The prince-consort sighed. _Those blasted migraines of his. They never fail to have consistently bad timing._ He was their only pair of eyes now, but he was glad to see that so far Sard appeared to have been left behind for the moment. They still had not seen hide or hair of him since the airship, but they never slowed their pace for an instant.

"Balthier, there's the town just up ahead," Marskot suddenly said, pointing forward and looking back.

The prince-consort looked ahead with his hand above his eyes and smiled. _Good, we're getting somewhere. Marskot really is not a terrible navigator; I'm glad to see he can read a compass correctly, _he thought with a smile. He looked back right then and was glad to see nothing remotely suspicious moved within his field of vision.

Vanda was by far the smallest town that they had visited, in fact Balthier wasn't quite sure it deserved to be called a 'town.'. It was hardly the span of three city blocks and there were merely two dozen or so tiny houses surrounding the outdoor shops. _Why would any nobles want to live here? How dreadfully dull. Must be for the romanticized country life, _Balthier thought with a shake of his head.

As they headed down the dirt streets, the villagers openly stared at them. _I cannot imagine tourists are especially frequent here, _Balthier thought as he looked back at them and they turned away, either embarrassed or shy. Marskot went up to the owner of the food stall and asked for directions to the house while Balthier picked out more food for them to eat. There was unspoken consent to dawdle for as little as possible; as soon as they were done with the house, they were to head to their next destination.

Of the three houses they had seen, this one appeared to be the best kept. Marskot had told him that after its owner had abandoned it, the village folk had embraced it as a symbol of their community and kept it in decent shape. When Balthier stepped in he was relieved to see the owner had actually moved his paraphernalia out before abandoning it, and had simply relocated his estate elsewhere. There was no grisly end or haunting tale here. It appeared to be quite normal.

"Marskot, somehow I seriously doubt we're going to find anything of relevance here."

"I wholeheartedly concur. This doesn't seem abandoned. 'Tis a shame, too. It was a nice change of pace from walking miles out of town to other derelict estates," the Dorstonian said as he moved around.

_It's quite charming, to be honest, _Balthier thought as he chuckled at an ornately carved model of the village sitting aside on a small table. "Why do you suppose a noble family would wish to live in a village such as this?" The consort was then perturbed at how little sound Marskot had made in the last few minutes and he turned to find his friend simply standing there, staring somewhere out the window. "Marskot?"

When he did not move Balthier walked over to see what was wrong, and then frowned at the lack of focus in his eyes. He simply continued to stare somewhere even after Balthier waved a hand in front of his face to get his attention. "Marskot? Please, Marskot, pull yourself together."

"Hmm?" He awoke from it as smoothly as he had fallen into it.

"What do you think you were doing?"

"I am very tired. No matter how early I may lay down, I can never get enough sleep. I'm looking forward to sleeping soundly again," Marskot said with a weary smile.

"You are not telling me everything," Balthier replied curtly.

"Daydreamed is all. I'll be all right," Marskot said, waving off his friend's concern.

Balthier only continued to frown. As soon as Marskot had snapped out of his trance he felt a change in him. The worry and contemplation had seemingly vanished, leaving naught but an airy, vacant shell in his place. _What is happening to you Marskot?_

Despite the sudden change, Balthier did not feel the same urgency to stay together as he had in the other two mansions, so he did not hesitate to wander off down another hall in the upstairs to the master bedroom. As was with the previous rooms, it was now sparsely furnished with merely a shadow of a bed replacing what had likely been there. _Nothing in here. We should continue to the next mansion, _Balthier thought and allowed his gaze to briefly stray out the window.

Then he stopped.

"That son of a bitch," Balthier whispered between gritted teeth and he carefully leaned closer to the window to get a better look. Just as he thought, something was slinking between the hedges closer to the mansion. _Sard_. "I knew he was following us. It is high time I brushed him off," Balthier muttered to himself, but he really did not care to test his sharpshooting skills from that window. He also doubted a single shot would phase the beast much in light of the beating Balthier had given him with his sword. _No scratches, no scars. He must have an accomplice!_ _Regardless, we cannot face him now. _

Balthier hurried back to where Marskot had been and was glad to see his friend had wandered out of the room into the hallway. "Marskot, Sard is out front. We head out the back door." The consort was once again struck by his friend's delayed reaction time, but it was closer to the old Marskot.

"Oh shit. This room has a trellis we can climb down," he suddenly said and darted through another door just steps from where they were. Balthier followed and was pleased to see that Marskot was right.

As they climbed down, he could not help but imagine that Sard had anticipated such a move and was in fact waiting for them with open arms down on the ground. But there was no one there. Even as they carved their way through the bushes and past trees, Balthier expected to see Sard's great paw reach out to grab his jacket sleeve to pull him back and meet his inevitable doom. _Finally, a scrape where I have not almost died._

"Gods, he's still back there. What are we going to do about him?"

"Give me time, I'm still thinking," Balthier replied. Unfortunately most of his ideas consisted of mowing Sard down with the _Strahl_, but it was the only powerful weapon he would have had access to if he were not touring Rozarria. He looked up when he heard a grunt to their side and calmly walked past the burly Elkin. Thankfully the animals were quite placid in regards to them. He would hate to imagine what it would feel like to get run over—Balthier's eyes lit up and he stopped. _Yes. That's it! "_Marskot, wait!"

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"I know how we can kill Sard. For good." Balthier refused to tailor the knowing smirk arcing across his face. _Ah, yes. Not even Sard could survive a stampede._


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_Gods, I hope this works, _Balthier mused as he gingerly set up a clump of grass over the barrel of the gun he had stuck in the ground. He glanced up nervously at the sizeable herd of Elkin that stood watching him serenely not twenty feet away, and then slowly he backed up. He was surprised to find they were rather docile creatures that paid him little mind, but he had the feeling that if he were to get any closer he would see them tense in wariness. At roughly ten times his weight, Balthier was not especially keen to feel those hooves trampling his back or be gouged by those long, curling horns.

_Would Sard be fool enough to walk through here? _He wondered to himself as he tested the tenseness of the wire attached to his gun. He did not even need to get especially close to trip either one of the two guns they had set as a trap, and those were to stir up the beasts into a stampede.

He had long convinced himself that Sard was following them by their scent. _It is rather strong at the moment, _Balthier thought with a wrinkle of his nose as he walked away from the herd.

"Marskot, hurry! He's not too far behind," Balthier called out to him. The Dorstonian was fixing the other gun barrel so that it was completely hidden.

"Balthier, I hate to rain on this, but this is a rather flimsy plan. You really think he'll walk straight into an Elkin herd?"

"I know, but we possibly have two variables working to our advantage. He's tracking my scent and in his concentration he might unwittingly walk in, or the more likely possibility, his ego and lack of fear lead him there."

"I'm placing my money on ego."

"Me too."

Now two hundred yards away they lay atop an elevated ridge overlooking the scene. As Balthier's eyes traced the scene he was quickly putting together travel calculations. _I would not have taken Sard fifteen minutes to realize we weren't in the house. _By all rights he should have stumbled onto them while they were preparing the trap, but he hadn't. _Why?_ Balthier loathed unanswerable questions and he pushed it away before he could think any further with it.

The minutes ticked by and just when Balthier began to fear he had evaded them somehow Marskot whispered, "There he is!"

He was hardly more than a dot by the trees from their position, but Balthier recognized the splotch of red fur and it seemed to hesitate at the sight of the Elkin. _Oh no please, walk right in, you son of a bitch, _he pleaded. His heart was pounding from the anticipation and if Sard turned away they would have to bolt. They held their breaths.

Sard did not turn away though. _Oh good, he's walking right into our trip wires. _They saw something flash in the sunlight and were surprised to see he had taken out the sword. _What is he doing? _But even as he wondered he could see the Elkin become agitated and they surrounded their young, forming a veritable wall against him.

"He's hunting them," Marskot suddenly said with as much disbelief as Balthier felt.

Even from this distance, Balthier could see Sard puff up his chest and fur to appear bigger than he was, and he bared his teeth to further his intimidating appearance. "What a fool. He cannot take on a full grown Elkin. It must be ego driving this," Balthier muttered, shaking his head.

"Or desperation," Marskot added.

_Could it be? That might explain his lateness, _Balthier mused as he continued to watch the display.

A particularly big Elkin had stepped forward and pawed the ground aggressively with his hooves, throwing his head around to emphasize the enormous set of horns he had.

Sard failed to be impressed and he took a couple steps forward to show it. He held the sword up high as though to challenge the buck, and then he took a few more steps.

_Crack!_ One of the guns went off suddenly and Sard jumped into the air. He looked around to find them and the buck took its opportunity. It charged forward and Sard was unable to bring his sword up to defend himself. They saw his body fly back several feet when it met those horns, and then the Elkin reared up and stomped him with his hooves a couple of times. It thrashed his body onto the ground and used its horns to throw him into the air and stomp him again.

Balthier and Marskot could only watch in complete shock. The prince-consort groaned and flinched as he saw the broken body fly through the air.

"Oh gods, no one could survive that. It's not possible."

Balthier had his head in his hands and groaned. He had seen death and dealt it more than once, but even he pitied the poor bastard that went through that. It was no way for any creature to meet their end. Just imagining himself in the same position made a terrible shudder run through his body.

"The Elkin, they're leaving," Marskot said.

Balthier looked up and watched dazedly as the herd ambled off, the leader of the group holding his head up higher. In their wake, barely noticeable, was an even smaller red blotch.

"I almost don't want to recover our weapons," Balthier said.

"We'll need them though," Marskot replied and he started walking over to them.

Balthier sighed and also headed over there, bracing himself for the bloody sight he was bound to see. He avoided looking over at it as he pulled the gun from the ground, but it was only so long he could delay the sight. Finally, he looked over to Sard's body and quickly averted his eyes.

"Gods, it pulverized him," Balthier said. _I_ _helped orchestrate this._

His eyes roved over his body again to properly take in Sard's limbs lying askew at odd angles. There were hoof prints stamped into his skin all over his body, and much of his midsection was bloody and bruised. His mouth gaped wide showing bloodied and fractured teeth and one of Sard's arms looked like it had been pulled from its socket. Balthier shook his head. "No one should ever have to suffer a death like that."

"Well, he's dead now. He can no longer bother us," Marskot said.

And then its eyes opened.

Balthier thought he might have been imagining it or that it might have merely a twitch from its dying nerves, but then he saw the eyes—as black as the night with the gleam of life—focus on him. He thought his heart stopped the moment the jaw started moving brokenly and he lifted his head slightly. The pair could only stare in complete shock.

"Impossible," Balthier whispered.

As they watched him stir, the prince-consort was suddenly perturbed by Sard's sudden lack of scratches on his face. Then he heard the creature's bones crack and crunch as they slowly melded back together into functioning limbs. Sard whimpered and groaned through this until he could work his jaw properly and then he was howling.

The howl stirred Marskot back into action and he tugged on Balthier's arm. "C'mon, Balthier, we have to go."

"No," he mumbled. "This can't be. This can't be possible!"

"Let's go," Marskot screamed and then they were running back across the open field. They dared not look back, but if they had they would have seen another figure breaking from the trees to try and follow.

Ashe really did not want to get up for the morning. Each day it had been getting tougher and tougher to get dressed and ready for the day. She was surrounded by people all day, yet her loneliness was tearing her to pieces. Each morning she counted: _it's been two weeks and six days. _Then she would think, _That's not especially long, Ashe. For your country's sake, pull yourself together._ Not even the her chambermaids could defeat her mounting apathy, but the thought of Balthier's definite disapproval could manage it. But this morning something else was making getting out of bed difficult.

She felt terrible. It felt like a chunk of lead was lodged in her stomach and whenever she moved her head, nausea cerashed over her like a wave.

_Get up, Ashe. You have work to do. Balthier would chastise you for this idleness. Now move, _Ashe commanded herself and she managed to get to her feet. At the same time dizziness overwhelmed her and she thought she was going to faint. Then she raced to her washroom and emptied her stomach into the sink.

"Your Highness, are you all right, my dear?" The older chambermaid, Marias, stepped into the bathroom after having obviously been waiting outside the bedchambers.

"No, I will be fine. Just a little faintness is all," Ashelia said, then she grabbed a towel and wiper her mouth. She looked down at the basin and shook her head. "My apologies."

"That is fine, your Highness. We will clean it up. Now, may I ask, is this the first time this has happened?'

Ashe frowned pensively at her and shook her head. _Where is she going with this? _"No, I was feeling faint when I woke up yesterday. I did not need to go to the washroom, though."

"How long ago was it that Lord Bunansa left?"

The queen's confusion continued to deepen until Marias' eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hair, and then it was so obvious to her she wanted slap her forehead. _We were trying for an heir and that was nearly three weeks ago. The symptoms might be appearing now._

She turned back to see Marias was looking at her expectantly. "I think a visit to the doctor should be on your schedule today, your Majesty."

"You're right. I will do that."

The rest of the morning passed in an impatient daze. Ashe could not focus on any of the ambassadors that came before her, and it was only after the last one was leaving her that she vaguely wondered if she had offended anyone in that time. But she could not let go of Balthier's absence in the palace and these new symptoms. _Could it be? Are we to have a child? _

She had expected to have children by now, but—by blessing or curse she couldn't say—circumstances had arranged for her to have a few more child-free years, and she and Balthier enjoyed them to the fullest extent. It had been a fairly touchy subject to broach on Balthier. He did his damndest to duck and dodge any questions regarding it, and Ashe was under the impression that he was desperately trying not to think about it.

_You knew when you married me that we would have to have children. _Ashe had told him on several occasions. It was a relief to her when he nodded in response every time, but sometimes she truly wondered if he would abandon her at the slightest mention of children. _What's wrong? You have taken care of Vale the past two years, I don't understand why any children we'd have would be any different._

_That's different, _he had said. _Vale is already half-grown and she's not _mine! _Do you realize that any child we'd have would be a holy terror?_ She had laughed. It had taken some time for her to compose herself again. _You cannot deny the truth to that. _She laughed some more, but nodded as well.

_It would all be from your side, _Ashe had replied. He had snorted and then said something about having to go train. Ashe smiled to herself now at the memory, even though it seemed so far away at the moment.

"Good morning, your Highness. It is a rather lovely day, isn't it? Or is there some other reason for your smile we have not seen in some time," Geoffrey said, falling into step beside her.

"Good day, Geoffrey," Ashe replied as she continued. "It is an absolutely beautiful day, but it is not the reason for my smile. I was just recalling another time with Balthier."

"It is awfully quiet without him here. Try not to fret, though, Majesty. He'll be back in a couple of weeks, I'm sure."

"If he wants Al-Cid to stop hitting on me he will," Ashe replied with a half-smile. The Rozarria was becoming quite irritating with his advances, which she always turned down. She had long started to wonder if he would ever get a clue or if he was too stubborn to admit to himself that not every woman wanted to bed him.

"Are you sure you do not want a guard? He will be less apt to do it, I'm sure, in the company of your soldiers," Geoff said. "And I am Captain Bunansa's assistant. If I am there he would not dare."

"And you should not fret over me. I know you are busy, but I can ask other guards to attend to me in the mornings. I would have arranged an escort sooner, but I should not need one in my own palace."

Geoffrey stayed quiet for a moment too long and she sensed he had something to say when he finally answered, "It is sad to not feel safe in your own palace."

"I do not doubt my safety with Al-Cid. He would never hurt me, he just does not know when to quit," Ashelia replied. "Balthier and I have gone through this. I think he said he was going to extend my bubble another ten feet in regards to Al-Cid."

Geoffrey laughed. "Captain Bunansa is quite possibly the most humorous noble I've ever met. It's nice to meet a good man up near the top once in a while. I better go, your Highness. Have a good day."

"I will. You too, Geoffrey," Ashe said. She no longer bothered trying to tell him it was just 'Ashe.' He never listened.

She returned to her private study to review papers until lunchtime, and then Marias materialized with a trey of water, slices of cheese, meet, and varying pieces of fruit. A healthier lunch than she was used to having. When Ashe looked at her, she gave her a stern look and she said, "Yes, Marias, I have not forgotten I am to go to the doctor."

"Very good. You are like a daughter to me, Ashelia, and I would hate to think you were neglecting your health in light of your duties," Marias said, coming up behind the young queen and placing both of her weathered hands on her shoulders.

"Yes, I know," Ashe replied as she stuck a grape into her mouth. "I intend on going to the infirmary after lunch. Try not to fret Marias. I thought you made a resolution not to worry anymore."

"The other chambermaids simply don't worry enough." Ashe only shook her head in amusement.

When her lunch was done she did as promised and headed to the infirmary. In times of peace, it was virtually empty, but she did see a couple knights were to see their cuts from training, headaches cured, and pains in their feet. They all bowed when she walked in and she nodded and said and signed herself up for the doctor. _Oh good, only two other patients in front of me._

As she waited, sitting primly in a seat, she could feel all their eyes on her. They turned away to not seem so rude, but she could see their eyes stray back to her in curiosity. _Damn it. Rumors will start. _It would fly around the castle like fever that Ashelia B'nargin made a visit to the infirmary, and that was a disease best treated early.

"I am simply in for a regular check-up. There is nothing of any serious concern," Ashe suddenly said with her head held up as queen.

The knights got the message and turned away to continue their mumbled conversations. _That will do for now, but it might not hold, _Ashe thought to herself as her eyes roved the room. _I do not even know if I am pregnant. Best to worry about them later if there is legitimate concern over my wellbeing._

After another half hour or so of waiting, the doctor finally called her in and she gladly strode in with all the regality she could manage. When he closed the door behind them, she turned around and said, "I have reason to believe I'm pregnant, Doctor Raini."

He was taken aback a moment at her boldness and then he coughed and said, "Is that so? Describe your symptoms to me and tell me how long you would say it has been since you conceived."

"Yesterday morning I woke up with nausea and it eventually went away. This morning I woke up nauseated and exhausted, and I think it's been nearly three weeks since I conceived."

"Hmm…three weeks is usually when women discover their pregnancy. That is about how long Lord Bunansa has been gone, isn't it?"

The doctor was too busy writing on his sheaf of paper to catch Ashelia's pained wince. She was really trying to purge Balthier from her daily thoughts so that she would be able to work instead of dwelling on him. _Gods, I miss him._

"Would you mind sitting on here so that I may examine you more thoroughly," Doctor Raini asked. Ashe obediently did so and she allowed herself to be poked and prodded for some time as he checked her pulse, her blood pressure, her eyes, and ears. She even took a urine sample as disgusting as she found the practice.

"Have you suffered anything else you might not have thought to mention? Mood swings, tender breasts…"

_When do I not have mood swings? _She wondered to herself. It all depended on whose company she was in, and more often than naught it was not entertaining company. "Err…yes, I've had mood swings and my breasts were sore for a couple of days."

"Very good, your Majesty," the doctor said and wrote once more down on the sheet of paper. "I will say this, I have every reason to believe that you are, indeed, pregnant, but to be sure we'll test this sample you gave us. But my advice to you until then is to eat healthy and be sure you get a full night's rest."

"Yes, sir," she said and try to keep the small blush from creeping up her face. With the exception of Balthier, it was always awkward to discuss these sort of things in front of a man. She slid off the table and shook the doctor's hand. "Thank you, doctor. I appreciate it."

"Of course, but one more thing, your Highness," he said and Ashe turned to him. "Would you like me to send a report to the council?"

She did not hesitate with her answer. "No, I want Balthier to be the first to know."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Basch had never been so worn in his life and that surprised him. He had expected to follow Balthier and Marskot on a leisurely walk through Rozarria, but since the incident with that mysterious figure they had been like snakes in the grass. They kept slipping from his sight when it came to tracking them he was a man flailing in the dark. Their tracks seemed to fade right into the ground.

He was still trying to make sense of what had happened back in the field. He had seen just as they had that the creature had met a violent end at the antlers of an Elkin, but they had dashed out of there as if the Devil were dogging their very footsteps. Basch hadn't bothered to check what had startled them, he had simply attempted to catch up with them and that was when their trail had disappeared.

_I need to get Balthier out of here, _Basch told himself. The circumstances were becoming too twisted and demented to be safe. Just when Basch thought he had caught up to them he would suddenly realize he was still miles behind. _How can that be? I am forfeiting my nights to gain ground. _As much as Basch was afraid to admit it to himself, he often felt that forces beyond his control were working against him.

_Could it be? _He had certainly been there when Ashe had cut her ties to the Occuria, had refused to be their puppets. He could already be certain of the existence of Gods. Could this be their magic at work? _But how? _Basch asked himself, _They could only keep their strings attached to us through Nethicite. _At least that's how it appeared. Perhaps they had greater power in the physical realm than they had previously imagined.

_Guesses! I have nothing concrete, _Basch had chastised himself. Indeed, if he dwelled on these ideas for too long they would start seeming real to him. _I just have to keep going. Balthier, you'll thank me later._

"Move your feet, Balthier, or we'll never get anywhere," Marskot snapped at him.

Balthier looked up from where his eyes had long started to follow the ground and glared, but he picked up his pace.

It had been two days since they had last seen Sard, and in that time Balthier's eyes had become engraved in dark circles, his clothes hung loosely from his frame, and each step he took seemed to use all of his strength. Marskot had done all he could to persuade him into eating and sleeping, but he raised the flag of surrender just that morning as his friend's spirits continued to sink.

_How am I supposed to outrun an invincible monster? _Everything had been falling in his favor when he'd seen Sard get gored by that giant beast, and then he had come back to life. _What does it want of me? To put me in its museum? But why? _Those questions hardly seemed to matter in light of the fact that there was no escape. _I cannot kill him, yet I cannot run forever. _His thoughts briefly fell on what would happen if Sard discovered Ashe, but he shoved that out of his mind with a violent shudder.

The only instance he could remember when he had at all considered giving up was when he was under the hammer of the Judge Magisters. There was one night he had refrained from telling anybody, when he had caught sight of one of the guns he owned as a Judge. It was an Aldebaran made of a fine red wood that gave off a warm sheen. It had by far been his most treasured weapon, hardly ever coming off of his dresser in favor of dirtying and scratching that bloody sword.

He had run his thumb lovingly on the gold lacing that ran from one end of the barrel to the grip, and he carefully studied the ingrained designs shining in a metallic blue. Beautiful. He had then put it under his chin. Ffamran cleared all the thoughts from his head, shoved aside the stress of performing well in the academy, the pain from carrying out his duty, the internal voice screaming against this. He banished all of those familiar faces that would be pleading with him: _no, don't do it, Ffamran. You have so much to live for. Please, don't do it. You cannot kill yourself. You cannot just think of yourself._ Oh no, he shoved all of that away and simply sat there.

The minutes dragged by but for all it was they felt like mere seconds to him. He simply sat there, with the cold barrel under his chin and breathed. Oh, the peace and quiet! It was too often a rare luxury shoved aside for the excitement and conversation that friends offered, but he was beyond dialogue. What he needed now was peace and quiet.

_Eternally? Are you sure you want that? _A small voice that he could hush no more had spoken at the back of his mind. _Yes,_ he had responded to it.

_Darkness and silence is all you'll meet. No more kissing Sari, no more teasing Vale, no more laughing with Marskot. No more eating. No more caressing Artemis' silken fur. You would give up such luxuries? Would you really give up life to escape the daily drudgery and pain of the Magistry? _

He had hesitated. _No more hearing Sari's lovely voice when she sings to herself. No more making love to her. Just cold, dark, emptiness, _that voice continued drilling into his conscience.

_That might not be all there is to death, _Ffamran had retorted to the voice.

_You would risk all of those pleasures to find out if they carried over? And what if they didn't?_

Simple death, no living. No life.

And that was when he had put the gun away. _No, it really was not worth finding out when I have them now._ But in the midst of court meetings, on the edge of battle, and in the haze of training, his mind would wander back to the Aldabaran sitting atop his dresser. He had convinced himself to live for another six months before Ffamran had killed himself to reemerge as Balthier, the carefree sky pirate.

Balthier no longer had to put up with the terrible agony after battle, although he still had to endure court meetings as the damn council debated. He lived in far greater luxury than he even had as a youth, and the passion he had with the queen had hardly abated since their marriage. Along with Vale and Marskot and Sari and Artemis, he had Ashe, Vaan, Penelo, Fran, and Geoffrey. He had even more to lose now with the simple prospect of giving up.

Despite his tangled hair, despite the dirt smudging his cheeks, his rumpled clothing, his lost sleep, his lost appetite, and his constantly aching muscles he would simply have to trudge on. _The Leading Man may not look his best at the moment, but I'll be damned if I simply lay down and die, _he told himself. _Only a man not fit to be the leading one would abandon all hope. _He looked up at the sky and sighed wearily to himself. _I wonder how Ashe is doing. It's been three weeks. Does she know if she's pregnant yet? _

He imagined that if by some miracle she was not then the council would shove it in his face, again now that they had gotten them steered down the path they wanted to. _Bah. I will deal with them later if that is in fact the case, _Balthier mused to himself. He finally brought himself back to reality, where he continued to doggedly follow Marskot through yet another forest. _These mansions are never near any cities, _he thought and wondered briefly why that might be.

"Marskot?"

"What?"

That tone of voice startled Balthier. He had never seen Marskot act so cold to him before, and when he turned around his blue eyes were ice cold chips. Perhaps his mood had turned for the worse at Balthier's brief reclusion.

"When are we going to get to this next mansion?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," he replied.

Balthier quirked an eyebrow at him in curiosity. Even when Marskot had been angry on rare occasions, never had he been so clipped and short with his replies. _Maybe he's under more strain that I previously imagined, _Balthier thought.

"Now that you've stopped moping, I think we might actually be able to cover some ground," Marskot suddenly said.

Balthier frowned. _Easy for him to say. He hasn't been attacked by a creature from hell. _It was awfully tempting to say something equally biting back, but it would only spark another argument and he was sick of all the stormy moods.

What truly bothered him, though, was that they had yet to see any sign of Sard since he had been lying in the fields. They had gone two days without seeing him before, but then Balthier was sure he was still on their trail, but now he had this eerie sensation that he was no longer back there. While it should have made him breathe a little easier, he was instead looking over his shoulder in a developing case of paranoia. _Where is he? Is he back there or is he truly not? _Balthier seriously doubted he would ever stop looking for him until he knew he was dead.

The prince-consort looked down to the gun at his side and then sighed heavily. _I have not forgotten you, Ashe. You will see me again someday, _he promised to the air. Oh yes, he would return some day. The Leading Man always kept his promises.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Balthier hated this mansion as soon as he laid eyes on it. The house itself seemed to give off fierce, cold, and calculating. Its hollowed, dust-covered windows somehow stared back menacingly and Balthier frowned up at it. It had inexplicably become an unspoken rule that the more sinister a mansion the more likely it would yield something of interest. As they approached, Balthier would almost swear that the windows were following their every movement. The statues outside, once made of beautiful white marble were now blackened and cracking with age, but their unrecognizable faces seemed to turn as they passed.

"No bad feelings from this one, Marskot? If I recall, we skipped the better part of Sard's lair due to the foul air," Balthier suddenly spoke up as he glared at the house.

Marskot turned slowly and gave him a measured look. "Scared, my friend? I thought nothing could scare you."

_What does he think he is doing? _Balthier could feel the hair on the back of his neck bristle, and he narrowed his eyes in indignant challenge. "Try to maintain a little sense, my _friend_. You may walk straight into death's arms, but I will not. I did not stake my life on this little quest of yours and you would do well to remember that." The prince-consort rested his hand near the gun at his side and this did not go unnoticed.

"Are you threatening me, Balthier?" Marskot asked calmly enough but his eyes were also burning.

"I am merely reminding you of your personal responsibilities that lie outside of your own selfishness," he replied through gritted teeth.

For a long moment they merely stared at each other. It appeared that any second they would break into a physical fight and for an instant Balthier wondered if Marskot was willing to kill him to get what he wanted. _Surely not. That's not Marskot. Marskot would never hurt a fly._ His heart pounded nonetheless and his muscles were tensed, ready for action should the Dorstonian so much as twitch.

And then his eyes cleared. The menace fell away and suddenly he seemed so worn and pale. "I know, Balthier. And thank you, but I have to do this. For all our sakes. I do not sense a threat that is similar to Sard. I think we should stay and search this one a little longer than the others."

_I knew it. The more sinister, the more likely it has something, _Balthier thought and then he said, "You cannot possibly tell me you sense nothing untoward of this place. It virtually wreaks evil." Balthier hated clichés in stories he read and he liked even less saying them, but this time it truly called for it.

"Balthier, let me put it this way: I would go in even if I knew Sard was waiting for us," Marskot replied and his friend sighed.

"I was afraid you would say that. Fine, I'll go with you. Let's just get it done with."

Balthier's eyes slid uneasily around the dark passage as Marskot led the way through, never stopping for anything. The inside was hardly better than the outside. _Even the other mansions were not quite so sinister as this. Sard's manor might come a very close second though, _Balthier mused to himself.

All the other mansions had appeared bare compared to this one, which was fully furnished in carpeting and with dozens of statues. In contrast to the deformed human statues outside, though, inside featured an array of snarling monsters all frozen in silence. Gargoyles, gryphons, lizards, and he was fairly sure that one statue in the master bedroom had been a dragon. Perhaps in the natural daylight it would not have appeared so disturbing, but Balthier questioned the sanity of any individual who would prefer monsters adorning their house as opposed to gods.

"I remember this place. In my dreams," Marskot murmured, shining his light up into the great space, where rotting tapestry and cobwebs hung from the vaulted ceilings like grisly banners. They both turned when they heard rubble stir behind them, but they could not see anything. "Sard." Marskot took out his knife and kept looking.

"He would have attacked us by now. Now, tell me, is this the place? Where you must fight your demons?" Balthier asked, his voice almost pleading. _Fran was right, I have changed a lot, _he thought, sighing inwardly. _'Twould be nice to finally get this out of the way and head back home. _Only Sard's appearance could take the silver-lining from that thought.

Marskot hesitated a moment as his eyes continued to rove around the once magnificent great hall. Finally he shook his head and said, "No, we must go on. It's close though. I can feel it."

"Like you said it was close the last time? And the time before that, too, at Sard's mansion? We have been traveling for a month with only the guidance your dreams may offer. Are you sure we are close?"

Marskot had turned back around, but he did not continue forward. Instead he said, "I am married as well. Do not think I push forward to satisfy any wanderlust. I must keep going. I must face this, with or without you by my side."

Balthier gave an angry growl and looked back the way they came, and then looked ahead to where they were going. There was nothing but dark and emptiness down that hall, with no end in sight. The darkness had never sat well with Balthier and they had been in this palace for almost two hours. Who could say where they would be after that? He was anxious to know of Ashe and her condition. If he somehow got wind of her pregnancy while he was away, his resolve to stay with Marskot would shatter. He looked to his friend's back again as though he might find the answer he was looking for there, but all was an opaque haze.

"You can leave." The Dorstonian raised the flashlight to start forward once more.

He was halted though by a hand on his shoulder. "I think you should come with me. We are not getting anywhere with this. It might be wise to withdraw for now and come back later when we have a clearer idea of what we are dealing with."

Marskot violently brushed his hand off and glared at him. "You can leave! I will not! You are not tormented by these dreams! It's not enough that I dream them every night, but now I can hardly see anything else with my waking eyes! I must go on! They are pulling me!"

"Who is pulling you?" Balthier asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. Over the course of this quest, Balthier had seen Marskot's mood swings and behavior changing with little warning. He had noticed that as they had continued his nature had shifted toward a far more volatile tone.

"I don't know who they are! But I can feel them pulling me as though I am on a leash. As much as I would like to resist, I cannot. They are pulling me! So go, if you must, but I cannot go with you." He pulled away and continued walking.

_Could it be? The Occurria? But they should no longer have any will on this world. Ashe, the others, and I helped sever them three years ago in the _Bahamut. _But what else could it be? _Balthier watched him go, utterly torn. He really wanted to get back to Ashe, and lie with her again after so long, but he could not simply abandon Marskot to whatever fate he was pressing himself to. He had never been this indecisive before. _Hell, life was simpler before my marriage, _he thought, even though he would not change a thing otherwise. Actually, no, he might have married Ashe after this quest if he had known they would embark on it.

He picked up his pace to catch up with Marskot. He had every intention of suggesting that they stop for a break, some food perhaps, and he laid his hand on Marskot's shoulder again. "Marskot—"

Balthier jumped when Marskot suddenly spun around and pulled him close. "I'm sorry, Balthier, truly I am." The former sky pirate's eyes widened when he felt something in his side. "I love you so much. You are like a brother to me, but you are holding me back. I must keep going. I must keep going."

"Marskot…" The name was barely more than a whisper, and Balthier felt his knees giving out, but his friend held him close. So close that they were cheek to cheek, and he could feel the tears running down Marskot's face.

"I am sorry. But I cannot have you with me anymore." Marskot gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and let him go.

Balthier fell to his knees and felt for the hilt of the knife driven into his side. He looked up, tears now clouding his own vision, the words he wanted to speak stuck in his throat. "Goodbye, brother. I will see you in the next life." He only delayed his departure further, by cutting the pack from Balthier's back, and then he continued onward without a glance back.

Balthier could not even attempt to look anymore. Even now his vision was fading, and he could feel the breath run shallow in his lungs. He touched his side again and put the hand close to his face to see it absolutely covered in blood. Thoughts were becoming disjointed as he stared unbelievingly at his own hand, and then slowly, very slowly, he began tracing letters on the stone floor. The sound of footsteps dashing across the floor reached his ears, but it was vague and distant, hardly noticeable; he continued writing. Before the message was done, he sank to the floor, but barely able to see he continued tracing. He let out a long breath when it was done and laid his head down to rest.

_Oh gods no, oh gods no, not again! _Basch had long started being suspicious of the circumstances as they had warped and twisted before his very eyes. Ashe had asked him if he could follow them, and make sure they both came home alive, but his concern always rested with Balthier. He had not entirely approved of the sky pirate—he may _say_ former but he was still a sky pirate!—actually marrying the Queen, but he promised himself he would not fail him like he did Rasler! Only too little too late.

_Oh gods, I should have grabbed Balthier and dragged him back to Rabanastre when their quest started to turn dangerous._ _I should have used my better judgment. _He could see Balthier had collapsed completely to the floor, but he was still doing something with his hand. And then he stopped moving.

Basch nearly skidded to a halt among the rubble and grabbed his jacket to turn him over. "Balthier!" One look drained the blood completely from Basch's face. The normally vibrant amber eyes that sparkled with mirth were now blank and glazed in death. "No, Balthier. Oh gods no." He had now failed two friends, he had now failed twice. Tears began dripping from his face as he continued staring at Balthier's pale visage, until his eyes were drawn to the last words he had written before he died, written in his own blood.

_Trust no Friend_

He had smeared the last letter when his hand had gone slack, but all the other letters were perfectly legible. They shook the weathered knight to his very core, and he drew Balthier closer as though he were a father holding his son.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Marskot desperately wanted to kill himself. _I cannot live. I should not live. How could I kill him? How? _He wanted to throw back his head and scream his grief and pain, but always his face was perfectly composed with nary a hint to the turmoil inside. He wanted nothing more than to run back but his feet forever moved forward.

When night had fallen for the first time since Balthier's death, he tried to shove the dagger he took from him into his stomach. If he could not convey the threat of them he would remove himself as one._ It's only fair. Especially if I can suffer for my grievance. Gods, Balthier, I am so sorry, _Marskot thought to no avail as tears trickled down his face.

_But he's dead, _a female voice saidn in the back of his head. _You killed him remember? _Somehow he could hear a snicker in her voice.

"Leave me be! Focus your attentions elsewhere and let me suffer alone," he muttered under his breath. "Why, why did I have to kill him? Gods, why?" Finally that scream he had been holding was allowed to escape. No suspicion could be had aroused in the middle of nowhere.

_Because we told you to. That should be reason enough, _another voice piped in. There was no mistaking the smugness concealed in this voice.

"Rot in hell, you sadistic bastards. You will find yourself there someday. Of that I have no doubt," Marskot growled. He gained some measure of comfort from the uneasy silence that followed in his mind.

_I wouldn't be so confident, _the leader characterized by a bass voice thrumming in his head said. _You and that pathetic pirate forced us to alter our plans, but never fear. She will suffer for her heresy._

Marskot stopped walking and stood in stolid silence. His heart pounded in his chest. He knew precisely whom they spoke of. Ever since he had discovered this he had desperately wanting to scream at the nearest passersby, _The Dalmascan Queen is in danger! _He could not even communicate properly to Balthier. He would have done anything to save his wife. _But he is dead, you fool. And he canot come back._ Marskot had no idea if that was his thought or one of theirs.

_Why stop? Keep walking!_

In a last desperate cry for help, Marskot threw out a mental volley and prayed someone else would hear it aside from them: _Help us! Please help us! They are going to see all that matters destroyed!_

He received no answer and had expected none. His head fell to his chest as the tears continued to roll down his cheeks as he began to despair. But little did he know another had heard him.

Ashe could hardly keep the smile from her face. Others had noticed her unusually high spirits and though they stared a little more than was necessary, they left her to her business. Not that she would have told them anyway.

_A child. We are really going to have a child,_ Ashelia mused to herself. It was becoming a constant itch to rub her belly and it was difficult to remain conscience of it. Of course, there was no evidence for the unprofessional eye to know she was with child, but a twitch like that would certainly get the rumors flying. _Balthier is to know first, remember? I hope he will be back soon. _The smile faded slightly at the ache of his missing presence. He will be back. The leading man always keeps his promises.

"Ah, my Lardy, it is such a lovely day, isn't it? Al-Cid said, seeming to appear out of nowhere. Despite the constant fly he was in her life, her smile hardly diminished. "Made all the more lovely by your smile."

"Yes, it is a nice day," she replied and indeed it was. The Giza rains had swept in over the palace and poured sheets on the residence of Dalmasca. Despite the flooding in Lowtown it had been a much needed respite from the burning sun and the parched ground. Now, as she looked through the windows at the palace gardens, she could see the flowers virtually blossom in front of her eyes. Ashe smirked when she saw Artemis slinking in the bushes. _Balthier and thatcat both just love to lounge outside on beautiful days such as this._

"My Lady, Ashelia, would you care to dine with me this afternoon?" He asked.

_He should know my answer by now, _she mused. Apparently he thought she would have a change of heart in light of her mood. "Lord Margrace, I should think you know my answer by now."

"What is a little repast between friends, my Lady?" He replied innocently enough.

"You know what Captain Bunansa would think of that. He is most certainly not without undue reason," Ashe said. She did not add that she was inclined to agree with Balthier; she cared not to deal with a sullen Al-Cid today.

"I promise it is merely between friends and nothing more. Let's say it is to reminisce on good times long past."

"Those were hardly times of immense glory," Ashe said before she could catch herself. She grimaced. _Damn it! Balthier's mannerisms are starting to reach me._

Instead of being offended though Al-Cid laughed. "Perhaps not, but were there not still pleasurable moments embedded in those dreadful years we both speak of?"

_Not too many included you, if I remember correctly. _Ashe dared not blurt that out, but instead merely smiled and replied, "Your offer is tempting, but I'm afraid I must decline."

"A pity to be sure. Have a good day, Your Highness," Al-Cid said. She could hear the defeat in his voice as much as she tried to ignore it. _He needs to simply stop trying for my hand and marry another lady lucky to have him, _she thought with a shake of her head.

She turned the corner and stopped in her tracks. A blonde, grizzled man stood in the hallway talking with Geoffrey. Dirt smeared his cheeks and streaked through his hair and beard, but she would recognize that face anywhere. "Lord Gabranth." Her heart soared at the sight of him for if he were here Balthier could not possibly be too far behind.

Ashe quickened her pace to meet him, but faltered at the grim expression on his face. Still she walked up to him and said, "Lord Gabranth, it is so nice to see you. It's been sometime, wouldn't you agree?"

"Your highness," he rasped and inclined his head marginally. That grim expression never left his face.

Ashe's heart began to ache in alarm, but she ignored the sensation. "Have you seen Balthier? Is he well?"

Basch opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Ashe's expression had fallen from her face now. Her heart began to pound. "Gabranth?"

"Your Majesty. I am afraid I bear terrible news." He fell to one knee and looked into her face. "Balthier is no longer among the living, Majesty. I have failed you."

Ashe sincerely believed her heart had stopped in her chest. Her field of vision wavered and then blackened, even as she struggled to draw her next breath. She did not collapse, but her stance wavered enough for Geoffrey to grab her arm. _No, no. Gods, please, no, not again! _Her vision finally cleared and her shock was suddenly replaced by white, hot anger.

_Crack! _Her hand hitting Basch's cheek was so loud she thought the whole palace might have heard. "Did I not ask you to watch him? You were to see him home safely!" It took all of her self-control to keep from attacking him. It was awfully tempting to rake her fingernails across his face. _Twice. Twice he has failed me._

"Yes, your highness," Basch replied in a thick voice. "I have no excuses. I deserve neither your forgiveness nor pity."

She felt tears sliding down her cheeks and the need to sob was so powerful it made her breast ache. _Why, why, why me? How could he possibly have died? He said he was going to come back to me._

"Easy, your Majesty. Try to breathe. Just breathe," Geoffrey said to her. He was holding her far closer than a guard should, but protocol be damned! She wrapped her arms around his neck and wept into his shoulder.

Ashe had no idea how long he held her, but eventually Basch spoke up. "Your Highness, I cannot apologize enough for my failure. No. Apology could not come close, but…would you care to see him?"

"I'm not so sure that is a good idea, Judge-Magister Gabr—"

"May I?" Ashe asked, barely heard with her face still turned into Geoffrey's jacket.

"Of course, your Majesty," Balthier's loyal guard replied and carefully let her go.

Ashe stood strong, but her face was blotchy and sticky with tears and her chest was immensely sore from the sobs that had racked her body. Geoffrey pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and she gladly used it to dab the tears from her eyes. Then she looked at Basch stoically and nodded.

"Was I the last to find out?" She asked numbly still unable to keep a few tears from sliding out of her eyes.

"No, your highness, among the first," Basch replied as he led her through the maze of hallways to the infirmary. Ashe's eyes glittered once more at the sign on the wall, hardly able to believe she'd only been there that morning to confirm her pregnancy. Already that joyous moment felt like an eternity ago.

One of the nurses noticed their coming and she led them down the hall to one innocuous room and opened the door. Ashe briefly noticed the room's number—11—before she walked in and forever vowed never to enter it again.

And there he was. Geoffrey almost bumped into her when she stopped in the doorway. Even from here she could recognize that short, auburn hair and very slowly she made her way into the room. Basch had been true to his word on seeing her first for Balthier was still dressed in the clothes he had left and she was surprised to see how rumpled, soiled and tattered they were. _Very unlike the Balthier I know. _But his face was the same, clear and handsome one she had fallen in love with, missing only that self-confident smirk. She slowly reached up to gingerly rub her cheek with her thumb and shuddered at the coldness instilled forever in that skin. _No, Gods no. He cannot be dead, he cannot be! _Her heart screamed out protests even as her mind saw and began to accept. He could never come back to her. Lost forever like Rasler.

Ashe looked down the length of his body and was surprised to find a sizeable stain in his side. She went to that side and as soon as she saw the rip in it, she knew what it was but still she pulled it open with trembling fingers. A dark gaping hole met her eyes and she immediately fell back against the wall. _Stabbed. How could someone put a dagger into his side without him being able to save himself? Or that Basch could not save him in time?_

All the while she had been examining him, Geoffrey, Basch, and Dr. Raini watched her somberly. Geoffrey had a hand resting on Basch's shoulder and she silently sent her thanks to him. _Thank you, Geoffrey. I need to be alone. _Ashe brought her face to Balthier's. "Balthier, can you hear me?" She whispered. Of course, no response. She really had not expected him to open his eyes and declare it all a joke. "Balthier, I thought you should know: I am expecting a child. Goodbye."

She fell back again. That was it. He was the first to hear of it, but the pain her chest increased at the thought of their child forced to grow up without a father. _No child should have to suffer that. _"Gabranth, how did he die? Who killed him?" She could not bear to look at his face and kept her eyes trained on her husband.

"Marskot killed him."

Ashe shuddered as though a bucket of chilled water had been thrown over her. _Marskot?!_ _But how? He would never harm Balthier. Never!_ Ashe immediately thought of Sari and froze. _Does she know yet? _Doubtfully. "How could this happen?" She finally turned to Basch and commanded, "You must tell me how this happened. Omit not one detail."

"Of course, your Highness. Might I suggest we go somewhere more comfortable? This will take time."

They left the room and headed to another private conference room, but she hesitated upon leaving and took another look back at Balthier's body. _I'm alone now. No more waking up to his morning grumpiness, no more amusing conversations, no more making love after particularly hard days. Just cold, empty loneliness. _Ashelia quailed inside at the thought, but impassively managed to make her way to the conference room without a single tear.

It couldn't have been more than an hour since she found out, but news had appeared to spread like wildfire. Everyone she passed gave her heart-wrenching pitiable looks. Ashe even passed Al-Cid and she was both surprised and appreciative to see an incredibly mournful expression on his face. _He has enough empathy and character to feel Balthier's eternal absence._

They sent for food and over the next hour Basch relayed all of the details to her and Geoffrey: buying the chocobo, the first mansion, losing them in Amaia—at this Geoffrey appeared rather startled—Marskot and Balthier's reemergence, the creature's demise by the Elkin, the last sinister mansion, and finally Marskot's betrayal.

"Your Highness, I did everything I could to catch them, but their tracks seemed to disappear into the ground. It is no excuse, but I did all I could."

"I know, Basch," Ashe replied, her voice was as dull as her eyes. "Not even Balthier couldn't have predicted Marskot's betrayal."

"I hate to interrupt, but your Majesty, you really need to rest. This has been a trying day for you," Geoffrey said from where he had been standing at the door. "Your doctor has informed me of your condition, and he and I both agree you should retire to your chambers for the rest of the day."

"Your condition?" Basch asked, his brow creased in concern yet again.

"Yes," Ashe said, "I'm pregnant."

She imagined it was a first to leave Basch completely flabbergasted. "Congratulations, my Lady." She could tell that he was absolutely torn in his response. "Balthier was…?"

"Of course he was," Ashe replied coldly. She knew perfectly well Basch was not doubting the paternity of the future child, merely confirming, but she would not let it slip anyway. "Goodbye, Gabranth" Walking back to her quarters passed in a complete blur. The knowledge of Balthier's death would not sink in. As much as she tried to convince herself, no matter how often she repeated it in her head, she doubted she would ever be convinced. _Two short years of marriage._

_A little better than three days though, _Ashe reminded herself as her thoughts drifted to Rasler. Both of her princes now fallen long before their time.

When she finally reached her chambers, she turned to Geoffrey and said, "Please guard my doors. I would like to be alone for the afternoon."

He hesitated though. "Perhaps someone should stay with you." She could see his cheeks redden in embarrassment and she looked at him askance. "The doctor warned me you might do something irrational," he finally mumbled.

_Suicide?_ Ashe could hardly blame Geoffrey for thinking she was capable of such an act. That was how she had escaped Archadia. "No, Geoffrey. I could never do that. Balthier would be upset if I did."

_Damn right I would. _His voice was so unerringly clear in her mind that it shook her core. _If I keep wishing he were here, my mind will play tricks on me._

"As you wish, your Majesty. I will hold you to your word. Rest well," he said and she closed her door.

The sunlight poured into her room, but then she went and pulled the curtains close. She could not have woken up more than five hours ago but all she could think of was how exhausted she felt at that moment. Her head was already splitting from a severe headache, her thoughts, and her movements were slow and slightly unsteady.

As she put on a nightgown she glanced up at the bed and shuddered. A gigantic royal bed all to herself now, with no anticipation of sharing it anymore. There had been one year as queen that she had been unable to share it with Balthier and she had long hoped to put that year of loneliness behind her, yet now she looked forward to a lifetime of them.

Sometime later a knock at the door stirred her from her slumber. "Yes, Geoffrey, what is it?"

"You have a visitor."

"I said I didn't want to see anyone."

"You might want to take this one," he replied and opened the door a little wider.

"Mrow." Ashe sat up to see Artemis had slipped through the door and fixed her green eyes directly onto her. The queen watched her cautiously. She and Art had never been on particularly good terms with each other. Whenever they met in the hall she always ran away—granted she ran from everyone else, including Balthier—and now the cat was heading directly for her. When she leapt onto the bed, Ashe barely felt the shift in weight and she felt nothing as the cat gently and lightly stepped over to her. "Brrrrow."

When Ashe tentatively reached out and scratched the top of her silken head, a great rumbling purr reached her ears. She remembered stumbling across Balthier on several occasions where he had lain his head down on the animal as she lay there. What she remembered most was the absurdly content smile on his face. _Have you ever listened to a cat purr? _He had asked.

She had replied no and he said, _You should try it sometime._

Her fingers continued to run through the beautiful mottled brown fur until the cat lay down beside her. She could still hear it purring so loudly it was like the rumble of an engine, but now she could feel the pleasant vibrations through her fingers. "Okay, Balthier," she whispered. "I'll try it." She shifted and laid her head down until she could feel Artemis breathe in and out. Now the purr was like a great roar and Ashe grinned as the sound filled her.

_'Tis the most relaxing sound you will ever hear in your life._

Another couple of tears splashed onto Artemis' fur, but Ashe still smiled. "For once, Balthier, I don't think I'll argue."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

It had only been a day since Ashe had received the news of Balthier's death and she was functioning much like a machine. Geoffrey had deliberately parked himself outside her door and refused everyone but a select few people entry. "Try to do some work today. Keep yourself busy," the doctor had said to her that morning. She did his best to heed his advice and it did keep the grief at bay, but she could hardly concentrate any work. Her thoughts were too distracting. Like butterflies they flitted and fluttered about in her head even as she desperately tried to catch them and hold them in her hands.

"Marias, how am I going to live without him?" Dalmasca may need her but life seemed so purposeless without him.

"Rowl," Artemis howled as she was unceremoniously dumped off the bed by the old chambermaid. Marias ignored the evil look the cat was giving her and promptly set about making the bed. "It will get easier with time, my Lady. None of us truly want to hear that, but what has been done cannot be undone. For the child's sake, dear, try not to despair."

Just as everyone in the palace knew of Balthier's death, almost all knew of her pregnancy and they had latched onto that as though it were the only thing keeping them alive. The coming of an heir always kept the flames of hope burning. The mention of the expected child however caused a wave of sadness so powerful it choked her. Ashe set the paper down and held her head in her hands.

"He died before he could find out. He will never get to see him. What kind of world would snatch a man before he even managed to see his first child?"

Marias swooped down to give her a gentle hug. "I know it's hard, your highness, but you must be strong. Captain Bunansa would have wanted you to pick yourself up and move on with your life. Who's to say he won't see his first child? He is right there in your soul. If you believe he will see it then he will."

Already Ashe felt her heart lighten and she finally returned a sad smile. "Thank you for speaking sense. I am sorry for being so gloomy."

"Of course not, your highness. 'Tis only the second day! I cannot imagine Captain Bunansa would blame you for mourning a couple of days. Just try to relax and not worry."

When Ashe nodded, Marias stood up once more and began straightening the room. "Tchah, silly beast, glad to see you're cozy once more." The queen glanced back to see Artemis lying on the bed once more, staring at the chambermaid in smug satisfaction not dissimilar from Balthier.

They were not left undisturbed for long, for loud voices could be heard out in the hallway.

"We need to see her! We're her friends," a familiar young voice shouted at Geoffrey.

"I cannot let you in as excited as you are. Perhaps when you've calmed down—"

"I am calm. We need to see her."

"Her Highness is in a delicate state. What she needs at the moment is peace and relaxation."

"C'mon! We can cheer her up. We're a part of the old party that restored Dalmasca."

"No," Geoffrey replied curtly.

"Why you—"

"Vaan, calm down! Please, we really must see the queen. We have to know how she's doing," a gentle, female voice spoke up them. Ashe could just imagine Penelo peering desperately at Geoffrey with a hand on Vaan's shoulder.

Ashe opened the door ever so slightly and said to Geoffrey, "Let them in."

"Of course, your Majesty," He said and stepped aside so that Ashe could open the door wider.

"Ashe!" The breath was nearly taken from her when she saw a mass of long blonde hair and then she was being crushed in a hug. "Gods, Ashe, we heard about Balthier and we were so worried! Are you all right?"

Ashe closed her eyes as her cheek was pressed against Penelo's shoulder as she struggled to keep control of her emotions. She took a shuddering breath and said in a steady enough voice, "I'm fine, Penelo. Thanks for coming by. You too, Vaan."

"Of course, your highness. We are friends and Balthier was my partner. I must pay my respects," Fran said.

The cocoa-skinned viera with her wavy, white locks seemed to have materialized right before Ashe's very eyes. She hadn't seen her at all! "Fran, you're here, too? I haven't seen you in some time. I am sorry I could not deliver such news to you in person," Ashe said as she pulled back from Penelo. The queen kept her eyes fixed onto Fran lest she have to see the pirate girl's utterly mournful expression.

"Think little of it," Fran replied. "It was easier to find out this way as opposed to someone forced to search for me. I take great pains to cover my tracks." She suddenly looked at Geoffrey and he frowned pensively at her.

Ashe opened the door a little wider to let them in. When she closed the door, Vaan turned on her and said, "Ashe, how did Balthier die? Who killed him?"

"Vaan, relax," Penelo scolded him. The young girl appeared very strained and exhausted, and Ashe wondered if Vaan had been equally incorrigible the night before. "Ashe will tell us when she's ready. They were married and it must be particularly hard on her." She turned back to her and said, "Take your time, Ashe. We're here for you."

"Thank you. All of you. I really appreciate you taking time out of your lives for me," Ashe said to them all with a hint of a smile on her face. Gods, she hadn't seen all of them since they had disbanded three years ago.

"We'll always be there for ya, Ashe. Now, c'mon, please, tell us how he died," Vaan said in a pleading tone.

She hesitated. It took little effort to recall the events of yesterday and she remembered her reaction perfectly: a debilitating shock, white, hot anger, and then an overwhelming sadness. A search in each pair of eyes told her that Penelo and Vaan were still not quite over the shock. As much as she wished to put as little duress on them as possible, she could hardly withhold the truth from them.

"The story is a long one, but to make it shorter, Balthier and Marskot left on a quest about three weeks ago. Many unfortunate events befell them, and in the end Marskot betrayed and murdered Balthier," Ashe told them, her eyes resting on her hands.

"No…how can that be?" Penelo asked as she brought a hand to her mouth in surprise.

"Why that sorry son of a—"

"It cannot be," Fran replied. Ashelia thought the sky would fall before Fran actually sounded surprised in her life. "I am not acquainted with Marskot, but he would never do such a thing to Balthier. They are friends, close enough to be brothers."

"Yet that is what Basch witnessed," the queen replied softly. She turned from them to look out over the balcony at the towering structure of the _Bahamut_. "He is the only witness, with the exception of Marskot himself and he had been tracking them the whole time. If Balthier could not predict this, then it might be safe to assume Marskot did betray him."

"Do you know where he is?" Vaan asked all of a sudden.

Ashe creased her lips into a thin line and Penelo automatically shoved Vaan. Despite having just seen him for the first time in three years, Ashe's patience was already starting to run thin. "Of course _not_! Otherwise he would be in the cells downstairs, awaiting trial," Ashe replied curtly. Then she sighed. "Vaan, we have no idea where he is. Geoffrey has informed me, though, that he sent the word out yesterday for all nations, particularly Rozarria, to be on the lookout for a man fitting Marskot's description. Now all we must do is wait."

"When you do find him, let us know," Vaan said with a growl and a murderous look in his eyes.

"And what precisely do you intend on doing?"

"I'll make him pay. He cannot just get away with killing—"

"He won't! But he will be given due process as is the law, Vaan," Ashe replied. _Remember when you sought revenge for your brother? It did not get you anywhere! _That's what she so desperately wanted to tell him, but cutting open old wounds to seal new ones would hardly make the situation better.

"She's right, Vaan," Penelo added. "She _is _hurting worse than you are. See a little sense." The young man turned away in a fit of temper but Penelo just sighed. "I am sorry, Ashe, but we have been trying to talk sense into him since we found out last night."

"It's okay," is all Ashe could say. She so desperately wanted to get a hold of Marskot and torture the reason for betraying Balthier out of him, but torture was against her policies and would do nothing more than satiate her savage appetite for his blood. Much like Vaan, she had to remind herself that only her established judiciary could see justice served.

An uncomfortable silence fell through the room and Ashe took the time to sit down on the bed and bring her body to order. Perhaps the doctor and Geoffrey had been right about two much excitement. It was hardly making her feel any better and, if anything, she was feeling worse for it.

It was a few minutes and then voices outside the door attracted all of their attention. _Now what? Surely there is no one else to see me. Oh gods, I hope it's not Al-Cid, _Ashe thought as she waited for Geoffrey to open the door.

He finally did and glanced around at all of them before his eyes fell on the queen at her bed. "Your Highness, how are you feeling?"

"Fine. Geoffrey, what is it you want to tell me?"

_Geoffrey is starting to develop a certain disregard for orders, _Ashe thought to herself as he once again hesitated to do so. He was quiet as his eyes continued to look around the room at all those present and then he took a deep breath. "Lucky we sent the word out for Marskot yester eve. I have received a report that a man fitting Marskot's description is spending the night in a Rozarrian town called Fenel, on the very western side of the country. Along with the report, King Russel Margrace XVI has already given us permission to extract him. Shall I send the order for his arrest?"

Ashe sat up straighter, the spark returning to her eye. At last, she might get some definitive answers for Balthier's death. "Yes, send two squ—"

"No! I'll go," Vaan said and started running for the door.

"Vaan!" Penelo and Ashe shouted at the same time.

As he tried to slip past Geoffrey, the man grabbed him none too gently by the wrist and said, "Sir, you have interrupted her Majesty while giving a direct ord—oof."

Vaan slipped away and Ashe saw Geoffrey turn, holding his nose even as the blood spilled through his fingers. "Vaan, how could you?!" Penelo suddenly screamed and was running past Geoffrey a split second later.

"Gods, what has gotten into him?" Ashe hurried and grabbed a towel from the bathroom to give to Geoffrey. He wiped at his nose violently. "Geoffrey, you must stop him!"

"As you command, your Majesty," he said and put the bloody rag into her outstretched hand before he, too, darted out the door. The echo of his footsteps still lingered in her ears long after he left, and then finally they were gone.

"What is wrong with Vaan? His brashness has hardly subsided these past few years," Ashe muttered as she deposited the towel into the basket with her dirty laundry.

"He is a sky pirate. In that case, the brashness never ends."

"Even so! Balthier at least had a little more sense that kept him listening. Vaan just…shuts everyone out and refuses to hear reason."

"Vaan may be a pirate but he will always consider Rabanastre his home. His family is dead and all he has left is us. Another death so soon was bound to wound Vaan in a similar way that his brother's death did, and as the circumstances so closely resemble his brother's death…" Fran did not need to continue.

Ashe could feel the hairs on her arms stand up in alarm as the time passed and she was almost certain it was an hour after she had sent Geoffrey after Vaan. _What is taking him so long? _Fran said nothing and merely stood near the curtains, peering out over Rabanastre.

Finally there was a knock at her door and Ashe nearly bolted from her bed to open it. "Geoffrey, fina—" She stopped mid-sentence when the person who greeted was not him but someone else.

The guard peered at her wide-eyed for a moment. He licked his lips nervously and then said, "Your Highness, Lieutenant Geoffrey Auberon commanded me to give you the message that he is accompanying the sky pirates, Vaan and Penelo, in search of the fugitive."

"You're dismissed," Ashe said curtly, even as the color drained from her face. When the door had closed she positioned her ear against it to wait until she could no longer hear his footsteps, and then she whirled on Fran and said, "How could he do that?! I told him to _stop_ Vaan, not accompany him on this foolhardy mission!"

"We both know of Vaan's stubbornness. If we could not stop him, it was doubtful that Geoffrey could."

"I wasn't looking for him to convince, Vaan. I was ordering for him to detain him! This is not like him, abandoning his duty to me," Ashelia raged. She stomped back and forth in her room as she fumed from her anger, clenching and unclenching her fists. As awful as it would sound to her constituents, she had not wished to pit her friends against an enemy whom they had no clear idea of his power. Soldiers with unknown faces would have been far less taxing on her nerves than recognizing the danger that stood in her friends' way.

_Calm down, Ashelia. Vaan and Penelo have been keeping up with their training and Geoffrey is certainly no slouch himself. They'll be fine. Perhaps they'll even manage to catch Marskot,_ Ashe tried to tell herself even as she wanted to scream in anger. _They had better come back alive._

"This Lieutenant carries a distinct similarity between himself and Balthier," Fran said, and the queen could almost swear there was amusement in that voice.

"Perhaps that's why Balthier hired him," Ashe retorted.

"Balthier was responsible for giving him a job?"

"Yes, indeed."

"Then trust in him. Balthier was forever a rogue, but he has a good judge of character. This Lieutenant Geoffrey is merely trying to do what's best for your interest—and likely Vaan and Penelo's."

"I suppose you are right," Ashe replied. She finally returned to the stack of papers that demanded her attention and Fran continued to stand in the corner where she had been the entire time.

They flew all through the night to reach Fenel by the next morning. Very little had been said since Geoffrey had met a brick wall concerning both of the sky pirates, and he simply stood by the entrance of the cockpit with his arms crossed as he brooded. Somehow, between the time she had left and arrived at the aerodrome, the girl had become convinced that she and Vaan should go in the stead of poor soldiers.

"_We helped Ashe regain Dalmasca and we beat Vayne. We are stronger than anything Ashe could send; Vaan and I should go! We can spare lives if we do," _she had told him. With the pair of them standing against him Geoffrey had to make a quick decision.

He recalled the viera was still with the Queen Ashelia and he had long known that she was an excellent fighter. The queen would be safe in her hands, but meanwhile these two foolish pirates had nothing other than each other to stay alive. They were far more vulnerable. He gritted his teeth against this and wished the situation would right itself on its own, but he could not simply return to the queen empty-handed. If he must do something, he would go to assist them in bringing in this Marskot character.

_Better for three to take him instead of two, _Geoffrey reminded himself.

"We have landed in the forest just outside of Fenel. Local time is 0300 hours," Penelo said. "Sunrise should be at 0530. I suggest we all get some rest and wake up then. We will need it if Marskot is a strong foe."

"I'm not going to sleep," Vaan said. Somehow the anger still hadn't abated despite the hours it had been since they left Rabanastre.

"Well, fine, you can just brood away, Vaan. But I'm getting some sleep," Penelo said, giving him an evil look. "Geoffrey, are you going to sleep?"

Only the queen and Balthier ever got away with calling him by his first name and it annoyed him ever so slightly that these pirates would also ignore protocol. But what could he expect? The routine and order in his life had been shattered the moment he heard of Balthier's death, and not one thing he had done since then had been anything he had done in his original position. With only the queen directly above him, he decided it would be beneficial to the whole kingdom if he helped bring Marskot to justice.

"I highly doubt it. I will be staying awake to make sure a certain pirate does nothing rash," Geoffrey said, with his eyes affixed on Vaan. He could see a muscle working in the young man's cheek, but he said nothing and merely slipped past him into the cramped living quarters and then flopped onto his bunk.

_That settles that then, _Geoffrey thought. It was not difficult to imagine Vaan slipping out while they were sleeping to find Marskot and exact his revenge without fairness guaranteed by the Dalmascan law.

He then went to stand over by the ramp to be sure Vaan did not try to sneak out later, and Penelo merely lay down on her own bed for a few hours of respite. All Geoffrey recalled was standing by the door and then he jumped when he felt a finger tap his shoulder.

"You fell asleep! Not even the alarm disturbed you," Penelo said, smiling widely at him despite having only two hours of sleep.

"Where's Vaan?" Geoffrey asked. Even as he mentally kicked himself for not staying awake, his eyes swept the quarters for the young boy only to find his bed empty.

"Don't worry. He's in the cockpit. He hasn't left yet," Penelo replied. Her expression sobered then and said, "Make sure you are prepared. We have to leave in five minutes if we want to catch him."

"I am ready," Geoffrey replied. He always kept five potions and ethers each on his person at all times, and his sword was already strapped to his back. He was prepared.

"Good, we'll be ready soon." Then the blonde girl left him where he was standing and started packing a small pack with remedial items.

"There he is," Penelo hissed as she and Vaan peered around the corner of a building they were spying behind.

"You already know what he looks like?" Geoffrey asked them. He had only seen Marskot the one time he had visited the palace three weeks ago but the memory was hazy.

"We traveled with him for a week in the Resistance," Penelo whispered after she withdrew her head.

"Shit. I think he saw us," Vaan said as he too drew back from where he had been overlooking the scene. "He's heading back the way we came." He did not wait for them as he ran off to pursue him.

"No, Vaan, we have to stick together," Penelo said, trying to stay quiet, but the youth was long gone. "Uggh! He is such a stubborn oaf. C'mon, we have to hurry!"

Vaan's breathing was ragged as he ran down the alleyway and then darted through another one to peer back down the street. As soon as he poked his head around the corner, he saw Marskot and Marskot saw him. The Dorstonian glared at him for one solid moment. Time appeared to stop and everything else ceased to exist as they stared at each other. Then Marskot bolted.

"I have you know," Vaan gritted between his teeth and then ran out onto the street to follow Marskot down one of the alleys on the other side.

"Wait, Vaan, stop," Penelo called out from behind but he ignored her. Their suspect was on the move and if he waited the man might get away. He could not let that happen.

_I'll take care of him for you, Balthier. You'll be avenged. I promise!_ Vaan continued running down the alley and then dodged into another one that was further west, hoping he might meet Marskot along the way. He could catch him!

Vaan hit an intersection and quickly reached for his sword when Marskot skidded to a halt not three feet away. For once, something was working in his favor. _I can't believe my luck! I was right! He is headed west!_ "Hold it right there, scum," Vaan said with his teeth bared in a growl.

"Ah, Vaan, isn't it? Shouldn't you be robbing a Rozarrian noble?" Marskot spat at him.

"If you hadn't killed Balther then maybe I would be," Vaan said, pointing his sword directly towards the Dorstonian's neck. Despite the sword's proximity, Marskot appeared unfazed by the weapon and Vaan growled. "I'll get you for killing him! You're not going to get away with it."

It startled Vaan to see Marskot's face twist into a sneer even as two tears fell from his eyes. "You think I'm not hurting. Do you know how much I've wanted to kill myself since that day?! If I can kill Balthier, what makes you think I won't kill you?"

The Dorstonian raised his hand and muttered something under his breath. Vaan swung his sword with a cry of rage—

"Blasted fool! Where did he go?" Geoffrey growled as he peered around the empty streets. "He's going to get himself killed with that kind of disregard!"

"C'mon, let's go down those alleys before something terrible happens," Penelo said and tugged him along hard toward the other side of the street. "Oh Vaan, please be all right. Why did you have to be so foolheaded!"

_Foolheaded? _Geoffrey wondered for a moment before he shook himself free of the girl's grip and ran close behind her. Suddenly a flash of light drew their attention towards one alley and they peered down it. Penelo gasped and hurried down it. Geoffrey felt his breath catch in his lungs and he all at once felt the temptation to scream. There was a body dressed in clothes that could only be Vaan's.

"No, Vaan! How could you be so _stupid_?!" Penelo screamed and there was no mistaking the sob in her voice. Then she was ripping the bag from her back and rifling through it haphazardly as she looked for a potion.

Geoffrey arrived and peered down at the boy, and then he flinched back. A spell had torn a whole right into the boy's stomach. He heard Vaan gasp and flinch and saw him staring up helplessly at the sky, even as he murmured, "I'm sorry, Penelo. You were right…I should have stuck with you….you were right."

Footprints leading out of the alley caught his attention and Geoffrey followed it and looked west. And there was Marskot. He and Penelo had arrived only moments after the flash of light, but already the Dorstonian was so far away he was disappearing right into the haze of the heated day. _Damn it! Gone! _

"Geoffrey, potions and my healing Magick aren't doing enough for him! We need to get him back to Rabanastre now," she said, sobbing as she did so.

"Yes, let's go," Geoffrey replied. He had difficulty tearing his eyes away from the diminishing figure and then he was gone from sight.

Ashe found herself staring blankly at all the council members before her. She had been in a meeting with them for barely an hour, and her attention was already suffering. The second day since Balthier's death and still she felt empty without his presence. Would she always? As a result, her concentration continued to dwindle.

"Your Highness, I can see you are not well, so we will try to convene this meeting. However, we have one more thing to ask of you," Balim said to her. "We all are now aware of your pregnancy, but the public however is not. After the news of Lord Bunansa's death—" _They still have trouble calling him 'captain,'_ Ashe noted—"We were hoping that you might announce your pregnancy soon. Undoubtedly the people are concerned for the continuation of Raithwall's bloodline and it would bring hope to them if they knew."

Her face was composed, but she flinched inwardly. She was still hung up over the fact that Balthier was never to know first. Of course, she could certainly understand their reasons for wanting to share this with the public but did they need to know right away? _Politics. All this is politics. If I say nothing, though, all of the noble bachelor's will be reaching for my hand,_ she thought.

"Of course, however, gentleman, I have fallen behind on my current work and I am still preparing for my husband's funeral. After that, I promise, I will tell Dalmasca the news."

"As you wish, your Majesty," Balim replied and with that the meeting was adjourned.

_Thank the gods, _Ashe silent voiced, but then she was surprised to find two messengers waiting for her at the door. They both stepped forward as soon as she exited the room and she stepped back, startled. Then she pointed and said, "You go first."

"I have news from Lieutenant Auberon. They found Marskot, but he got away. Before he did so, though, he wounded the sky pirate Vaan very seriously and they are flying back for medical attention."

Ashe gritted her teeth. _Gods damn it! I bet Vaan went off alone…_ Before she could finish her thoughts, she finally turned to the other messenger. "And you?"

"Your highness, I have been sent to inform you that Captain Bunansa's body is gone."

She blinked. _What did he say?_ "What do you mean Captain Bunansa's body is gone?"


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

His eyelids felt so heavy he could barely lift them. Seconds later he could feel his chest rise and fall slowly and evenly, and then the sensations in his fingers and toes returned. Each digit twitched as feeling slowly came back to his worn and beaten body. A groan escaped past his lips and then he felt a hand, so small and delicate, pass over his eyes and rub his forehead. It was so soothing. He cared only to lay there and never get up, but the owner of the small hand had other ideas.

She peeled back an eyelid and suddenly a blinding white light filled his vision. "Aggh!" He turned away clamping his eye shut again and bringing his hands up to cover them.

She giggled. "Wake up, sleepy." But he only continued to lay there until she got up and pulled at a leg. "You must get up. Now."

The voice was hard and Balthier suddenly bolted up to a sitting position to stare at the girl at his feet. She had the palest skin of any person he had ever known and her hair was nearly light enough to match it. Only her blue eyes were defiant in color and they gleamed at him with mirth. She was dressed in simple white slacks and shirts that were so fastidiously kept he had difficulty believing they were real.

Balthier stared at her in confusion and then all of his previous memories came crashing back and he jumped to his feet, turning from one side to the other. "What…? Impossible. Where am I? What has happened? Who the hell are you!?" He asked turning around to face her and stepping back a few paces. He looked around again for an exit but there were none. Just a white, empty void. "Is this hell? Because if it is, you're doing an admirable job of taxing my nerves."

All around him, as far as the eye could see, was an empty, white void. No corners, no shadows, no sun, no moon, no sky. Just emptiness.

"Not Hell. There is no Hell. I brought you here so that you could not walk away," she said with a slight smile.

_Gods, she isn't much taller than my waist, _Balthier continued to keep his distance from her.

"Who _are_ you?"

"I am Erinna, one of the many deities that watch over your world and sees that order is kept accordingly," she said and gave him a deep bow at the waist.

Balthier drew his mouth into a disapproving line and he glowered at her. "A deity? But you're not of the Occuria? Hmmph. I bet we are little more than your playthings."

"Not as much as you might imagine. Our powers are very limited, so divine intervention such as miracles are rare, if ever. Well, tonight, there will be at least one miracle."

"My resurrection," Balthier replied with his arms crossed.

"Correct."

"Why?"

"Do you not want to see your wife again?" Erinna cocked her head to the side as she examined him.

"There are plenty of other men who have died young. Why not resurrect one of them?"

"Because you know. You are already familiar with the tricks of the Occuria," Erinna said. He had turn away from those blue eyes as they beseeched his help. "I will not lie. Your world, as are many others, are a part of a game—a chess game to be more precise. For many eons I have played this game with the Occuria. I saw how they fed the old king of renown, Raithwall, their Nethicite. They treated the denizens of Ivalice as no more than dogs wanting to please their master. They thought very little of you, but I believed differently and they were confirmed—wouldn't you agree?—when you and your friends cut your ties to the Occuria and defeated Vayne Solidor. You have the power to defeat the Occuria once and for all, mortal as you are."

"As you might imagine, the Occuria were especially irate and as you and your wife were the ones who foiled their plans of domination, they have now targeted both of you. I had to step in when I found them manipulating the physical laws to extricate you from Dalmasca's well-guarded grasp. They have possessed your friend, Marskot Demarlgen. He put up a tremendous fight, but no being can fight them forever. You got much farther than the Occuria had ever intended and when they had full control of Sir Demarlgen they saw you dead."

Balthier watched her with a carefully controlled face, but even she had to notice the way his back stiffened and his eyes glowered back at her. _That two-faced bastard. He knew this was happening and he didn't care to warn me about it? I hope he gets his just desserts in the hands of the Occuria._

_But he couldn't. You know perfectly well that Marskot would never harm you otherwise. It is the Occuria you should direct your justified anger towards. _He jumped at the intruding voice and glared down at Erinna.

"Get out of my head!" He grabbed his sword and was prepared to run the representation of the little girl through when he felt her presence vanish. "Why the hell are you telling me all this? I cannot imagine my resurrection will come free of charge."

"Because I want you to destroy the Occuria."

"Hah! You're even more deluded than I imagined a god could be. Go pull the strings on someone else. I care not about your games," Balthier spat and then turned and walked away into the void.

Erinna cocked her head to the side, "You wish not to defeat the Occuria?"

"You are a god, you see it done."

"I have already explained to you my limitation in power."

"And I will not tolerate to be a slave to your bidding. If this means death again, so be it."

She suddenly reappeared in his path. "There is no other I would trust alone with this task."

"Me? A mere mortal taking on the gods? My wife will tell you I have been a fool on many occasions, but even I'm not that big of a fool," he retorted to her and stepped around her yet again.

"You would prefer your wife and your unborn child dead for the sins of your foolish pride?"

That stopped him. He turned slowly and then began treading back just as slowly, but the fiery glare he gave her never abated for one moment. "What did you say?"

"Never mind. I rested too much hope in you, in Humes. I thought the desire to see your wife and your future child would be enough but I was wrong. I shall send your body back to the palace where I took it," Erinna said and then she raised her hand, prepared to give a snap of her fingers.

He grabbed her hand. "Wait! It's true then? Ashe is pregnant," Balthier whispered. He thought he might very well die there if his heart stopped again in his chest like that.

"Yes, but I can see now that means nothing to you. I will send your soul back where it resided," she said,

"NO!" Balthier wanted to curse every name in the heavens include the brat's own for her devious manipulation. He grabbed the front of her shirt and shook her. "You will send me back there. I have to see her again!"

Erinna glared at him with equal fury and reached up to wrench his hand away from her shirt. He hissed in pain as she twisted and then she said, "I will let you see your wife again, but first you must do my favor."

_Bowing to a child! How humiliating, _he grumbled to himself although he was grateful that there was no other audience privy to this. "I would hardly consider that a fair deal."

"You will accept it or I will banish you back to oblivion," Erinna snapped.

Balthier finally wrenched his hand from her grasp, and then he stood as straight as he could manage and refused to be intimidated, "I will do the task that you set for me."

"You will destroy the Occuria?"

He hesitated only for a moment, and then after he drew a shuddering breath he said, "Yes, I will."

"Very well."

The void began to warp around them until he could recognize the slim and slithering vines of a humid jungle. The dense bushes rustled with the activity of frightened animals, but the distant birds continued to whistle and shriek in a constant orchestra of noise. _Why in all the gods' names did she bring me here?_ A movement from in front of him drew his attention and both he and the other figure froze when they locked eyes.

That wolfish snout. Those cold, black eyes. That armor, that jacket, that gun, that sword. After one too many close encounters with the creature, he could recognize him from any part of the globe. "You!" Balthier reached for his gun and pointed it at him and the creature did likewise.

"What. Is. He. Doing here?" Sard asked through clenched teeth. He growled, showing off his impressive canines, but Balthier continued to impassively stare murder at him.

"He is here at my bidding, as are you. Now put down your weapons or I will do that for you, in a far less painless manner," the girl said with crossed arms.

They did so, slowly, but neither of them put away their threatening glares. Finally Sard broke away his gaze and he said, "You told me in exchange for destroying the Occuria, you would grant me my freedom. You said nothing of a cohort."

"I told both of you precisely what you needed to know. As individuals, you may very well be able to kill the Occuria by your stead. However, you will have greater success if you take advantage of your common goal and work together."

"Over my dead body," Balthier replied.

"I can easily enough put you back in the states you were both in before we brokered our deal."

_Why should there be strings attached to see my own wife?_ Balthier wanted to yell, but he kept it behind his teeth and merely nodded. He did see Sard shudder in revulsion at what Erinna said but he also nodded grimly.

"One question though." Here Sard threw him a dirty look and then said to Erinna, "The Occurians are immortal. What makes you believe we have any chance of killing them?"

Erinna smiled. "You are their main targets. Since they have been unable to eliminate you through tangential means, they will want to see you dead themselves and in order to touch you they must take on a physical form." She turned to Balthier, "You and your friends were able to kill Venat when he merged with Vayne. However, they can take on whatever physical form they desire. Expect to come against fearsome beasts that are not of this world."

She walked up to Balthier and said, "Hold out your hands."

"Why?"

She sighed and said, "I would like to give you something." When he did she took them gently into her small ones and there was a flash of light. He felt a rush of energy running through her into his hands. When he tried to pull away, she clamped down tighter until she finally let go and he jumped back.

"What did you do to me?"

"You now have the power to heal most any injury. Even broken bones. I imagine you will find use of it."

_Indeed, if this quest is anything like the last one, _Balthier grumbled to himself. A sore back, concussion, a broken wrist, broken collarbone, and another dislocated arm were just a handful of injuries he'd received the last time. He had been fortunate the broken arm had occurred on the _Bahamut_ or he would have had to sit the entire quest out.

"Your current weapons are sufficient for killing the Occuria, but I caution you thus: their armor may be impenetrable to Ivalice weapons." She waved a hand and a long sword sheathed in leather appeared in them. "I can assure you this weapon will pierce any armor of theirs. Use it well." This she handed to Sard and he gave Balthier an ugly look before he swung it around onto his back.

"This strangely echoes the Occuria's gift of Nethicite," Balthier suddenly said and he scrutinized Erinna carefully.

"Very observant," she replied with a small smile. "However, my gift has no power to cause mass destruction like the Nethicite. It can kill only one enemy at a time. It grants you no special powers, so do not be foolish with it."

"Now, I have given you all that you need to confront the Occuria. I must warn you: if you should perish, I will not be able to bring either of you back to life again."

Balthier was never in the best of moods when he was being manipulated through his thoughts and desires, but he seriously considered breaking the deal there. _If I die killing the last Occuria, I will not be able to see my wife, even after fulfilling my end of the bargain? A poker player would never agree to those terms._ He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists in frustration. _It is the only way though._ He let his hands go and slumped in defeat. _I will see you again, Ashe. I gave you my word and the Leading Man always keeps his promises. _

"Finally, before I go, you must shake hands."

"I'm not sure you've given me enough reason to work with him. I do try to avoid shaking hands with peop—creatures," Sard growled at him, "who have tried to kill me, on more than one occasion."

"You will offer your hands and you will work together. Neither one of you is sufficient without the other. Now shake."

Neither one stepped forward. They merely continued to glare at each other.

"We can wait here until the sun falls from the sky," she replied and they turned their glares to her.

Finally, Balthier stepped forward with his outstretched hand and Sard did likewise with his paw. When they clasped, they both squeezed the other hard enough to leave welts on their wrists.

"Good. May fortune favor you both, gentlemen." Then Erinna was gone.

As they let go of each other's hands, Balthier saw a sly smile appear on Sard's face. _How shall I die now? By the hands of the Occuria or by him?_


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Balthier felt his apprehension rise when she left. _Perfect, now I must suffer this lunatic who might kill me regardless, _he thought. The sinister smile Sard had given him as they shook hands fell when the beast turned his attention to his weapons, giving them a once over before returning each of them to their sheaths.

"C'mon, move! The sooner we get this done the sooner we can separate from each other," Sard growled. He slipped a paw into one of his belt pouches and pulled out a folded up square of parchment and Balthier stepped over close enough to see it was a map.

"And where do you expect we start looking for these Occuria? She gave us no clue as to where they are," Balthier asked, cursing the gods yet again for such mystery. _Honestly, why must deities act like they have cards to keep? Either consult in someone and give them all the information they require or simply see it done yourself, _he mused. He still wasn't sure if Erinna really did not have the power to beat the Occurria or if she preferred to watch her puppets do it.

Even as he looked at the map with Sard, he could see the beginnings of a smug grin. "I know where they are."

Balthier snorted. "How?"

"That is none of your business," Sard snapped.

He inwardly sighed and thought, _This partnership will never get anywhere. Well, if one of us has to die, I hope he snuffs it first._

"Where do you think you're going? We can't simply run off without considering a strategy! And we need supplies."

"I know precisely what we need. Get moving."

Balthier ground his teeth together. They had not been working together more than five minutes and already the shift in power was apparent. Sard held all the keys and all the answers. _Why'd that imbecilic god have to give him the sword?_ Balthier was almost entirely at his mercy.

"Hurry up. If you fall behind, you'll be left behind," Sard barked at him.

He blew his breath out in irritation and then started following the beast before he walked out of sight. It would have been unwise to lose him while they were still in the thick of this forest, where he had no bearings. _Does Sard even know where we are? Nothing for it. I'll have to stick with him. For now._

In Archades—no, not just Archades, but everywhere—knowledge was power. Sard knew more of this venture than he did and he held it over his head like meat over the head of a Dalmascan Wolf. When Balthier was Ffamran, he had taken great joy in holding information over Jules in much the same torturous way and he now forever regretted it. Never had he cowed the wily streetear into any form of submission with it, merely taunted him before selling it for a gleefully high price, but now Sard was using it to treat him like some minion.

_Just let him hold his power for now. He may yet slip, _Balthier mused to himself and tried to content himself to merely watching Sard. Arrogance and certainty were something the pirate had taken great pains to work further into his pirate persona, but he did take pride in several real talents he found himself to have and one was reading people. Sard was a mortal just like he was. Even Immortals made mistakes, so it was only so long that Sard could keep his past a secret.

As they walked, Balthier had to fight with himself to keep from opening his mouth and demanding the answers to his questions. _Sard does not work like that. He was alone when I met him, he was alone when I faced him, he was alone when the Elkin trampled him. I would not be surprised if he ditched me at the first available opportunity. _And just what was keeping him from ditching Balthier? Did Erinna really think the prince-consort would be even marginally useful when compared to a fighter of Sard's caliber? _I suppose she intends for us to coordinate our attacks against the Occuria, but how the hell are we supposed to do that when we have no idea what form they will appear to us in? It probably won't be of a species native to this world if any._

Sard rarely bothered to glance back and see if he was following, and as mute as he was all Balthier could do for his own entertainment was speculate silently. _How would he know where the Occuria are? Has he met them before? Do they reside on this world as they toy with its inhabitants? I always presumed they'd reside in the clouds and then come down to interact with us when they deign to, _he thought with a frown. His eyes fell onto Sard's fine jacket, his other sword, and the long sword Erinna had given him. _What does he know about the Occuria? _Something Erinna had said to him in that white void came back to him, and his speculative nonsense turned into something with substance.

_"Since they were unable to eliminate you through tangential means…"_

_Tangential, she said. They used someone or something to help kill me. _Of course, it all seemed so obvious now. Marskot aside, his only other life-threatening encounters had been at Sard's hands. _Sard has been working for them._ He would eat his belt if it turned out untrue.

They walked for hours and hours in silence. In this heavy and humid forest, Balthier could feel the sweat staining his clothing and trickling down his forehead. Beads of it trickled down his neck and arms as he struggled to follow Sard's unflagging footsteps. The beast was like a machine, never stopping for anything. Balthier was struggling to keep up, but he refused to voice any complaint. He could walk all day at this manic pace.

"Is that as fast as you can go? I could be at a town by now, if I didn't have to drag you along," Sard taunted him from ahead.

Balthier huffed at him. "Do we necessarily have to travel as fast as possible? It might be wise to conserve energy and walk at a much more reserved pace," he retorted.

"Quick and efficient is my business, hume. I do not dally, no matter how wise you may think it. Weak. How could I not catch you if this is the best you can do?" Sard grumbled to himself.

_Five hours into this venture now, and I've progressed from being frustrated to dearly wanting to ring his neck, _Balthier mused. He had never counted himself a violent person by any means, but Sard appeared to have the bizarre talent of bringing out his most volatile notions.

"I can't work like this. This excruciatingly slow pace," Sard grumbled loud enough for the prince-consort to hear. "Hellsteeth. Gods never seem to know what they're talking about. Putting a gun to your head and ending this quick would be the easier solution."

Balthier stiffened and automatically reached for his gun. "Even if you succeed in putting a bullet into my head, I imagine there will be some just desserts when you either fail or when that god learns of my demise. I imagine torture will top the list of punishments."

He did not miss the way Sard's back stiffened at the word. _Torture? Does he actually fear the act itself? The pain? _He imagined that Sard, like most bounty hunters, was constantly focused on their reputations. If they did not act the part of a bounty hunter, there was no chance they would get jobs or could demand the respect that would keep others from attacking them. In Balfonheim, the best bounty hunters names' were whispered in the back corner's of taverns and only during the day. Unlike Balthier, many others of his profession stepped lightly around bounty hunters. It was far too easy to find yourself in their clutches if care was not taken.

Silence fell between them once again. They continued walking in the jungle, never stopping for aany respite. Balthier felt his stomach rumbling with the weakness of hunger and he struggled not to choke on the dryness of his throat, but he shoved it from his mind and focused on each step he took. He looked up ahead and wondered if they would ever stop but then something caught his attention. _Could it be?_

Suddenly the trees gave away to a clearing and Balthier looked out over the area at a sizeable town, located at the bottom of a small slope. Even as Sard continued walking, he dragged the pack from his back and then pulled out the strange helmet he had been wearing in Fleta, then put it on. It was then Balthier noticed that he no longer had his tail, no doubt tucked away somewhere in the gear he was wearing.

They walked into the town by the main street and drew the eyes of every passerby on the street and staring out the shop windows. Balthier's eyes fell on one beefy man as they passed, and he turned away abruptly to continue sweeping the dust from his storefront. Balthier was surprised to see that people even stepped back and gave them a wide berth as they walked. _Sard has mastered the art of intimidation._

The first shop they walked into was the butcher's shop. Balthier looked around, utterly bewildered and tried not to show it. _What use is a butcher shop to us? _However, he stayed quiet and merely observed the exchange.

"Ten pounds of Barovan meat," Sard hissed, and then he plunked a small bag of gil onto the counter. There were no slits to see the creature's glaring eyes, but the blankness of the helmet's gaze still unnerved the rather solid man, and he gulped before he turned and carved up what Sard commanded.

Balthier felt like a ghost as he watched Sard stand like a statue at the counter. The butcher did not even meet either of their eyes as he carefully set the meat in front of Sard and carefully plucked the bag of coins near the creature's left paw. Balthier expected Sard to either snatch the pouch away or break the man's wrist with a mighty slam of his fist, but he was surprised when Sard merely snatched up the meat and stuck it in his back before he swept back out of the store again.

"Ten pounds of meat?" He hissed. "How long you expect that will last?"

"It will last me long enough," Sard growled.

The prince-consort could feel his fury continue to build with each step down the cobblestone street. "You think I can sustain myself on air?"

"I could care less if you have to catch fish with your teeth. Your health is no concern of mine."

_To each his own. _ They entered the weapons and armory store of the town next, and bought several pouches of gun powder from the proprietor who'd been as nervous as the butcher. Balthier walked over to the market next, and he could feel Sard's eyes sizzling the hair on the back of his head. He never looked back but he tensed. Hardly half an hour later and his pack was laden with fruit and dried meats that would stay better preserved than Sard's meat in the heat, but he stopped almost immediately in the doorway, his mouth quirked upward in a knowing smirk.

Sard was gone.

Balthier stepped in front of the nearest person who had been desperately trying to skirt him. His eyes were cold with menace but he asked politely enough to the young, scrawny man, "Pardon, but would you know where the man in the suit has gone?" With a shaky hand, the young man pointed west.

"Thank you." Then he sprinted down the street, stopping only at the edge to look for his path.

There! On the ground he could see boots that resembled the tread of Sard's own.

_Ditching me is he? Let's see how well he does on his own._

Sard only stopped for a few hours each time. When he did, he pulled out his gun and studied the path he had just created. The leaves swayed in the wind and he noticed a monkey jumping to a tree, but otherwise the trail was utterly deserted. Despite the emptiness, he had his doubts.

_That Gods damned prince has survived longer than I imagined, _he mused as he glared behind him before turning to claw his way up a tree and shook his body to settle for a moment's respite. He'd made a terrible mistake when he assumed he was some fool unused to the rigors of the outdoors on his own, but by far this man appeared more fit than that of his other prey.

The bounty hunters in particular had been a terrible letdown. Only Errix the Two Sword had put up a suitable fight. The others fell easily, believing they were the hunter rather than the hunted. A couple, particularly Druven Vorst and Malus, were constantly geared for an attack but even they had not been quick enough to shoot him before his sword had relieved their shoulders of their head.

Well, now there was bigger prey to hunt and Sard could not afford any mistakes like the ones he had made with Balthier. _They will pay. Killing them will bring the kind of satisfaction I've been looking for, _Sard thought. His black eyes crinkled as his lips pulled back into an evil grin. _Hadrian Tars._ He was going to sleep well imagining tearing that demon's throat out tomorrow.

Tars was the only Occurian confident enough to prefer existing in the world rather than the ethereal Mists and he took great joy in the tasks he carried out. He was the frequent tormenter of Sard and any other puppets trained to do their bidding, and he communicated the tasks he and the other Occuria wanted done. Sard clenched a fist as he thought back to the last time they had met. _Oh, killing him will be sweet revenge for what he did. _

After the Elkin stampede, Sard's senses were having trouble focusing but he distinctly remembered that striped creature appearing right next to him and then roughly grabbing him to haul him off in front of the other Occuria. There, the pain had begun. He was ashamed to admit to himself that he had screamed; screamed until his throat was rubbed raw. Tars eventually abandoned him to his death, and he lay there for the Gods knew how long. He had tried to get up but his broken arm couldn't support him. There was nothing he could do but wait for death.

He had long been a slave to the Occuria, and now he had his chance to make them suffer the way they made him do so for forty long years.

The town of Turend was hardly larger than the last one, and its architecture was similarly simplistic and the streets were laid with cobblestone. Sard had never understood how Tars could reside in such a tiny and quaint place, when his appearance was so exotic and wild. The inhabitants feared him equally as much as they feared Sard, and the customers in the local tavern tended to abandon their orders when both appeared in the bar. With his helmet once again secured, the Stone Lion tavern was where Sard headed now.

A hush fell when he walked in, and then the humes nearest to him stood up from their chairs and stepped away, waiting for him to make the first move. Sard's gaze swept the tavern through the tinted glass peepholes. And there he was. His helmet was off, an occurrence so rare it likely drew whispers from the locals residing in the darker corners of the Stone Lion.

Tars was hardly larger than him. In comparison to Sard's tapered snout and black beady eyes, the Occurian appeared almost gentle with his rounder green eyes and far more human face. Whereas Sard sported an ever present snarl, Tars' lips peeled back into a light grin, but even the locals recognized the deception. There was no hiding those inch long claws on hands and feet, and his sharp canines could be seen every time he opened his mouth. A long, blue-striped, white tail poked out the back of his armor and it waved languidly in the air as though he hadn't a care in the world. One erect ear had swiveled toward Sard when he entered, but otherwise his eyes remained shut as he sipped at a drink at the bar.

"Tars, we end this now. Care to come quietly or must I drag you out? I guarantee you the first method will be far less painful," Sard hissed, drawing his gun on the Occurian.

It was as if Sard flipped a switch, for all the people inside immediately abandoned their drinks and food and hastily pushed their way out the door. The barman ducked behind his counter, but Tars continued to sit on the bar stool, taking another sip of the hard liquor. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, "I knew it was only a matter of time before you rebelled. All these years…I'm surprised you took so long. Afraid, Sard?"

Sard growled and pulled a little on the trigger of his gun. "It was good money, until _you_ abandoned me."

"You had your chances, you naïve imbecile. Three. We do not receive failure well."

"Spare me your lofty ideals. It ends here."

Tars stepped off the stool, and then he turned and aimed his gun back at him so fast Sard could not have reacted quickly enough if he had wanted to. "It has not been only me. We have wanted to dispose of you for years, but as our best hunter it would have been a mistake. But now you have failed. We must keep our invaluable reputation as the quickest to see threats dead."

They stood there for a moment, barrels pointed so that each was staring straight into one. Tars was smiling with the same maliciousness that Sard usually did, but the bounty hunter's face was now cold and somber and his eyes never left Tars. Suddenly, the Occurian brought his barrel up to the ceiling and said, "Seeing who will shoot first is hardly the way to end our relationship. Outside." He leaned his head to the side to indicate the door. "We'll duel."

Sard bared his teeth and very nearly pulled the trigger. _Pull the gods damned trigger, you slimy dog, _he thought to himself. _PULL IT! _

"Stop fooling yourself. You'll never pull it," Tars said. "You can never step back from a challenge."

Sard gave a snarl of disgust and finally lowered his weapon. They knew him far too well, enough to know one of the few weaknesses Sard admitted to himself that he had. His black eyes swept up from Tar's scuffed boots to his striped head and nodded curtly. _He should be worthy enough to duel. I just have to watch out for those claws and I will leave Turend the victor._ He stepped out the door backwards, his eyes never once leaving Tar's face. They walked into the middle of the cobblestoned street until they were some forty feet apart, and there they waited. For what no one looking on knew but in the same instant both of them reached for their guns.

Two shots rang into the air. Sard's missed Tar's by a matter of inches, but Tar's hit Sard in the right shoulder. He grunted and stumbled back a pace, but then he used the back foot to spring forward and soon they were sprinting at one another. The instant they closed Sard swung the barrel of his gun at the Occurian and he screamed in pain. "Auggh!" When he lowered his hand, the beginnings of a shiny bruise were already appearing on his face.

Tars growled and swiped at Sard's chest with his claws. _Riiiiip. _Three long tears grew from the claws, but Sard ignored them and grabbed Tar's face with one paw, sinking his own claws in and then deliberately dragged them away leaving great bloody gashes. Tars swiftly rubbed the blood from his eyes and with the other hand drew a knife that he plunged into Sard's side.

The beast stumbled into Tars, grabbing onto him for balance, and then he turned his head and sank his teeth into his shoulder just at the neck joint. He also tried to shove the barrel of his gunl into the Occurian's stomach, but Tars wrenched it from his grasp and threw the gun to the side. A shot rang out as it clattered to the ground, too far away for Sard to reach it.

Sard grazed his teeth against Tars' skin as he pulled away and then shoved him back to off balance him. It was enough space for the beast to take the knife out of his side and throw it back. It pinged harmlessly off of his armor. Tars righted himself and then gazed down at Sard with a victorious smile. Sard had sunk to his knees, panting for breath, his right arm reaching over to pressure the wound even as the blood continued to ooze profusely.

"Well, well, I am astonished, Sard. I thought you would die after a better fight than that." Sard glared up at him. "Do you surrender?"

"Never." Sard launched himself, bringing one of his arms up to take a swipe at his throat. Tars was faster and he cut his claws across Sard's face, causing him to crumple over sideways.

The crunch of footsteps indicated that Tars was walking away, and when he came back he spoke, "Such a beautiful Antares." Sard squinted up at him and snarled silently at the man now holding his gun. "I promise I will take good care of it when you're gone. May you burn in hell," Tars said. Through the haze clouding Sard's eyes he could see a great grin on the Occurian's face at the other end his own gun's barrel.

"You can meet him there," a smooth hume voice said and then there was a crack of shoot. Sard watched Tar's body fall to the ground with only vague comprehension and then his gaze slid over to the figure holding yet another gun. He recognized that smooth face and fiery brown eyes, standing so far above him. "Looks like you need my help after all."

Sard had no reply. His body relaxed and his eyes rolled up into his head.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

The blood was everywhere.

Balthier looked down in disgust at Sard, even as the blood continue to well up out of his side and pool around him. _What a mess. _"I thought you were supposed to be flawless, Sard. Yet, here I find you at death's doorstep because your ego got the better of you. How I learned that hard lesson."

He sighed in annoyance and holstered his gun before he kneeled down to check Sard's vitals. His heartbeat was thready and his breath was shallow as he panted for oxygen. Balthier peeled back an eyelid to find that the black eye had completely rolled up into its socket, showing the shocking white of the rest of the eye. Closing it again, he bent down to check the wound.

Abruptly the memory of Marskot stabbing him in the side arose fresh and sharp as a photograph in front of his eyes, but he shook it from his mind. Pressing his fingers against the side to slow the bleeding, he closed his eyes and muttered the spell Erinna had given him. Almost immediately he could feel his energy drain as though it was transferring from the core of his body through his fingers to Sard. When his fingers had gone numb he stopped the spell and sat back, holding his head.

He felt faint, dazed, as though he hadn't slept in two nights. When he looked back at his handy work he was pleased to see the wound had mended and showed a patch of clear dark gray skin.

"Well, Sard, you have another chance to throw yourself at death again. Try to do it after we're done, and then I couldn't give a damn what you did with yourself," Balthier said to him, although he was still clearly unconscious with his mouth ajar. The prince-consort stepped over to the other body and peered down at it curiously, even as he wrinkled his nose in distaste at the grisly mess of his head. He searched all the creature's packet and pouches and pulled out every bag of gunpowder he could find. Then, finally, he slid his hands beneath Sard and lifted him away.

He tried not to appear nervous as he slowly began walking out of town, but as he had worked, the townsfolk had slowly started to trickle back onto the streets. They peered at him with a mixture of disgust, fear and morbid curiosity. Balthier tensed under the threatening glares and stared back at them with equal enmity. A couple quailed at the pure fury in his eyes, but he remained tensed until he was in the trees just outside of town.

Ashe would have scolded him for this. Her voice came back to him with painful clarity in his mind, and it was in that exasperated tone it usually addressed him in: _Balthier! You must treat the townsfolk better than that. We cannot allow judgment of them get in the way of our presentation. Courteous and cordial is the easiest way to find yourself in the good graces of most people, noblemen or peasant. _

_Ashe, I refuse to be abashed into tolerating such open hostility, even if they make no move to harm me. _Perhaps he was taking too many lessons from Sard. Intimidating the people around him into acquiescence did not sit well with him, but it would serve to make a clean get away.

Balthier walked several hundred feet into the forest until he found a thicket of bushes that would serve as a shelter. He looked up at the trees momentarily, but their lack of thickness and any comfortable bedding space changed his mind in an instant. When he had eventually caught up with Sard after leaving him in that gods forsaken town, he had hardly failed to notice the creature far preferred the trees and used them as pathways. He had been fast, too. Balthier had difficulty matching his pace, particularly after the long march they had done upon being forced into their partnership. However, he had managed to hide from Sard's superb vision and save the creature from getting his own head blown off.

There was perhaps one issue that both of them could agree on now that Sard had tried to face an Occuria alone: neither could do it without the other. _I was right when I presumed Sard to be a tough fighter and one with such power. Inciting him to fight me would be most unwise in my circumstance, yet… _Sard needed him. Erinna had given him the healing spell, and to give them balance she gave Sard the sword. Both of them had placed more importance on it than the spell, but it was clear that Balther would be delivering a short eulogy to him if circumstances had been otherwise. He was not the healer; Penelo had always excelled in that more than anyone else back then, but he wondered if even she could have saved Sard.

The sky had turned orange before Sard stirred. Balthier had busied himself by using branches to create a more solid shelter and had departed with his gun to hunt them both down food—returning with a hare after a lengthy chase through some bramble and two small song birds. He had just finished gathering the wood when he saw Sard's eyelids flutter.

"Decided to rejoin the living have we?" He asked.

There was no answer and he did not stir again. "No amount of feigning will make me drop my guard. I know perfectly well you are awake."

Sard opened his eyes slightly they slid over to him without moving his head. They stared at each other for the longest time and Balthier could almost hear the cold calculations running through his head as he gauged his own strength, compared himself to Balthier, and considered his escape. A smile twitched at his lips when he saw Sard close his eyes in defeat before continuing to stare at him again. The prince-consort took no notice of him this time as he carefully stacked the wood, and then quickly chanted a small fire spell.

The silence prevailed for another long stretch until finally, after Balthier had managed to set the hare onto a spit, Sard rasped to him from the shelter, "What do you want?"

Balthier gave him a hard look. "I want answers. I refuse to be the blind-folded sheep in this wild kite chase."

Even as weak as he was, Sard still smiled nastily at him. "That would depend on the questions."

_Schwing!_ The prince-consort scraped the tip of the blade along the ground to hold it aloft, its cold metal danced with the light of the fire. "I can just as easily undo the wonders of that healing spell. Well, Sard, what will it be?"

"Do it," he said with a hiss. "You think I am afraid? Hah!" His black eyes glinted as he continued to watch Balthier in malevolent pleasure. "You lack the nerve. You are far too enmeshed by the rules of your society to carry through with such an empty threat." The creature panted with shallow gasps as his recovered strength slowly left him.

"You think I won't do it?"

"I know you won't. Even if laws are not governing your thoughts, you need me to help you destroy these Occuria. You wouldn't dare kill me."

A light smile played on Balthier's lips. "I did not say it would be quick." He stood up so abruptly that Sard flinched, and then he stomped his boot down on the exposed digits. The crunch of the bones snapping beneath his foot made the consort want to vomit, but he gritted his teeth against the nausea and continued pressing them into the ground. To the creature's credit, he did not scream, but his face had frozen with an ugly grimace as he desperately tried to wrench his claws out from beneath the boots.

Balthier finally stepped back and struggled to keep his composure even as the memory of Bergan stepping on his arm with a metal boot came surging back into his brain. Sard's face relaxed and he continued to pant, and yet not even a groan of pain escaped his mouth.

"The information, Sard. Or would you prefer I break your other hand?"

"A-another lesson? Perhaps you could be—useful in this task after all," Sard replied.

"Sard," Balthier warned.

The creature fixed his eyes onto him and his lip peeled back defiantly, but he said, "Ask me all you feel is vital. I will not answer anything I deem irrelevant."

Balthier scowled. "That's too easy. You could deem it all irrelevant!" He made a move to step over onto Sard's other side, but the creature slid his unbroken claws beneath him.

"You know where the Occuria are, don't you?"

"Yes," Sard said, then after a slight hesitation, "I can sense their anchors here."

"How many are left?"

"Four."

"Do you know what they look like?"

"No, I can merely sense where they are."

"What is your quandary with them?"

Sard hissed aggressively. "That is my business!"

Balthier smirked knowingly. His earlier speculations on Sard were little to go by, but his reaction was telling. It was at the least clear that the creature held a personal vendetta with the would-be gods. _Let him believe he still holds all of his cards, _Balthier mused. If it would keep Sard passive towards him then he would cease his prying.

"You've dealt with the Occuria before. What kind of confrontation can I expect?" Prior, Balthier had imagined the Occuria stewing silently over their foiled grab for power, unable to do anything else to steal it back.

Even in the evening light, he could see Sard's mouth twitch as he evaluated the question. Sard knew that Balthier had also had previous dealings with the gods.

"A ruthless and violent lash."

"Why did you murder all of those headhunters?"

"That is my business."

Balthier hadn't expected an answer. His attention drifted back to the spit with the hare and saw it was slightly charred from his inattention. As he shredded the meat, he contemplated. He had some more answers now to his surprise. Sard had relinquished some information, but everything pertaining to himself was safely guarded. The prince-consort had no choice but to surmise what kind of an opponent he would be, and his encounters with him showed Sard's personality was as viscous as liquid.

Violent and arduous; clearly a character who had trained all of his life to hunt people down. Was Sard temperamental? He had yet to see him in a fury, and for all of his murderous tendencies he kept a calm and collected head. Balthier had delighted in sending Ba'gamnan into a rage, watching his bumbling minions struggle to catch him and Fran. Sard had proven much harder to shake and that shook Balthier's confidence. Now that he tied it all together, Sard slowly began to take the shape of a machine; a creature who strove to meet his goal, brushing aside such petty necessities as food and water.

_He is mortal though, _Balthier reminded himself. For all his utter perfection in body, he—a former pirate—had managed to evade Sard's grasp five times. Sard was equally capable of making mistakes, and for someone like him Balthier wondered if he had purposely and forcefully stripped his arrogance from his persona, to dispatch his only visible flaw.

Balthier's thoughts continued as he stepped over to Sard with a cup of the diced hare. He appeared to have fallen back asleep but his eyes opened the moment Balthier was next to him, and he glared up at him. The consort's eyes fell on the mangled paw and he cursed his distracting thoughts. He carefully picked the paw up and chanted the healing spell to mend the fingers he had broken.

As he finished the spell Sard said, "You're too soft. I knew you wouldn't kill me." He clicked his tongue and continued. "You need training."

Balthier gave him a shrewd look. "So that I can be more like you? I think not. I am at least approachable."

"You're predictable. It's why you healed my paw."

"You're not especially useful in a fight without it."

"That's not the reason. You're weak. You do not revel in the pain you can inflict and you certainly mind it. I can see it in your eyes as much as you try to hide it." 

Fran had told him as much when he had found himself entangled in the Princess Ashe's affair. So what if he did have little tolerance for torture? It was what made him Hume and Sard a monster.

"You have already underestimated my strength and my wits," Balthier replied. His eyes were burning. "I would caution against doing it again."

Sard snorted with mirth. "I've seen all that I need to."

Balthier felt himself shudder slightly under that knowing gaze, and he was forcibly reminded again that this was not the dim-witted Ba'gamnan. He relaxed when Sard finally laid back and he closed his eyes in exhaustion. It was only then Balthier realized Sard hadn't eaten a single piece of meat he had brought, and he was forced to prod him awake again.

When he had eaten as much as Balthier would allow he collapsed into sleep again. Balthier sat back and watched him as he chewed up the rest of the meat. He grimaced as he put another piece in his mouth. _It could certainly use some seasoning._

He knew Sard was awake before he opened his eyes. He could hear his limbs scrape against the dirt and the soft padding of his paws when he walked. _Impossible. He can't be on his feet yet._

But then he woke with a jolt when Sard deliberately grabbed his shirt and shook him violently. "Get up! You've already slept through the night! It's now time for training."

Balthier opened his eyes and he could barely distinguish his silhouette against the sky. "Good gods, Sard! The sun hasn't even risen! You should still be resting."

"And waste another day? I will not! Now move!"

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Balthier finally got to his feet, narrowly missing the sheathed sword Sard threw his way. He followed the creature as it walked out into the clearing and impatiently began to tap his sword point against the ground.

Balthier stared. "What are you doing?" He picked the sword off the ground. "I thought you were in a hurry to leave."

The prince-consort barely brought his sword up in time to parry Sard's sword. _Clunk!_ Sard's naked blade cracked against the sheathed sword with enough force to send Balthier back a few paces. He shivered and switched sword arms to shake out his numb one.

"Good, I've got your attention. You're weak," Sard snarled with a self-satisfied smile. "You may have outrun me, but you certainly have not won any fights. If you're going to be of any use to me then you've got to be stronger. Now," his glower sharpened in ferocity, "do fifty push-ups."

Over an hour later with the exercise over and them on their way, Balthier staggered as he gently held his right arm, which he could see was already turning a beautiful shade of green. Sard had smacked him with the flat of his blade for any hesitance, mistake, or mutiny. His sword arm had been his favorite target, but just as eagerly went for his other limbs and his back depending which angle he could best reach.

Balthier chanted a minor healing charm to help take the ache from his limbs and momentarily wondered if he would get a slap for healing his handicaps. _If I don't he can enjoy facing each Occuria alone, _he mused with an evil glare sent to the back of his head.

_Out of respect for life, you have to endure. _His head shot up as the words floated unbidden through his mind. Where had he heard them before? It was somewhere, far back into his memory. He sighed. _That is neither here nor there. For the moment, you must focus on what lies ahead._ Out of respect for the queen, he would have to endure if he thought he might ever see her again.

The pervasive mood throughout the palace continued to be one of gloom. Vale had arrived two days earlier for the funeral and made a point to avoid Ashe. Not once did she see the girl smile, and the only time they had spoken was before the ceremony.

"Where is my sister?" Vale had asked, her voice hollow and flat.

Ashe smiled at her in hopes of a livelier response, but she said, "I don't know. We sent a message to where she's living with Marskot. The servants said that she had left two weeks earlier without word of where she would be."

"Do you think she knows what Marskot did?"

The queen's smile faded. _Gods, she had married him, hadn't she? I should have sent her a message the moment I heard. _"I…Balthier's death was not a small affair. I imagine she has heard."

Vale gave no answer and merely walked away. Ashe stared wistfully after her, torn between letting her be and going after her. For the last two years she had struggled to make Vale feel welcome at the palace. Their relationship was cordial at the very least and Ashe had resigned herself to that, recognizing she would never be loved the same way Vale loved Balthier.

But for the moment she was all Vale had.

"Let her be," Fran's soft voice said from behind her. "She needs to overcome her grief by herself."

"Are you sure? I fear she might…" She couldn't finish the thought.

"Every person handles grief in their own way. She lost both of her parents without the surety of either Balthier or Sari's presence. She will manage," Fran replied.

She nodded at Fran's advice and returned to prepare for her address of the nation.

Putting on a brave front for the whole of Dalmasca had been much harder than doing it for Vale. Any weakness could cause the structure of her country to crumble and crack, be vulnerable to attack. There were still plenty of people who would snatch every opportunity to see her dead, so although she was alone at the podium, a formidable guard stood behind her. Geoffrey also continued his job of protecting her, and he stood just close enough to push her down before any arrow or shot might find her.

Fran and Penelo had agreed to stay on as extra guards for the time being. Penelo, she suspected, was staying only while Vaan was still recovering.

_Vaan. _Ashe shuddered. He would have died if Penelo had not had such an extensive knowledge of healing Magicks. They had arrived back in the capital in the dead of night, and they rushed Vaan up to the infirmary wing. Ashe had stayed up to greet them and she had felt a wave of nausea sweep her at the sight of Vaan's waxy and pale skin.

"Gods, this man should be dead," the doctor had said so quietly that Ashe imagined she wasn't supposed to have heard.

After a long silent wait in which the only sound was Vaan's raspy breath, the doctor eventually began muttering an enchantment. A very faint, suffused blue glow lit up his palms and when it faded he stood up.

"He will live, although he has lost a lot of blood and energy. This was a very serious injury, and I would not let him leave before three weeks have passed," he said, staring each one sternly in the eye as though they might disagree. "He should be safe for now. I would suggest all of you try to get some rest for the night."

Now, nearly a week after Balthier's death, Ashe found herself doing her best to keep amicable and content, even as she waited for the rest of the council members to file in. His absence still hung palpable within her, a void that could never be filled again, but she was able to cope with it better now when she focused more on the duties to her country.

_Careful, your highness. I've worked too hard to make you see the benefits of a little relaxation to bury yourself in work again. _

Balthier's voice floated through her conscious again, but instead of her eyes watering recalling such things, she merely smiled to herself. _Perhaps the dead never truly do leave you, _she thought.

"Ah, your Highness, it's so good to see you in such pleasant spirits," Balim said when he entered and sat at the opposite end of the table. "I imagine you are doing well then?"

"Yes, thank you for your concern. I hope to find your spirits similarly high," Ashe said, not taking any heart in the formalities. She had no grudges against Balim the way Balthier had but she enjoyed consulting them no more than he had, and as he was now gone, she was expected to meet with the council twice a week.

"Indeed you have, your Highness." The conversation fell away as the rest of the council members stepped and took their seats.

Balim offered no more trivial dialogue before he cut right to his point, "Now, Your Majesty, I realize this meeting is to discuss tariffs and considering to raise them"—something which Ashe was to sit against and let the council try to convince her otherwise—"but we feel a more pressing issue should be dealt with first."

Although her expression remained impassive, her heart skipped a beat.

"Now that the Lord Bunansa has been put to rest"—there was still no body—"we are concerned about the country's lack of confidence. With the prince-consort dead, there will be questions about the future of Dalmasca."

She said nothing.

"We all know and are supremely overjoyed over your pregnancy," Balim said, "and we believe that you should announce it within the week to strengthen the unity of our great country."

Ashelia drew lips into a line. "Council, I appreciate your concern for our country, and never forget that the welfare and happiness of Dalmasca is ever-present in my mind. However, I must disagree with you on your proposal."

Balim's smile faded. "Whatever for, Your Majesty?"

"Dalmasca is still struggling to recover from the dominion of Archadia as led by Vayne Solidor. His empathizers are still plentiful and I beg you to recall that there was an attempt to assassinate me before I was a year on the throne. As much as the country needs strengthened, the people will become equally demoralized if there was another assassination attempt. I am vulnerable already due to the death of my husband and you are asking me to foster my vulnerability? I cannot with good conscious, do it." She loathed playing her vulnerability, but Balthier had always been seen as her key protector. Since it was still considered unseemly for queens to carry weapons—she was continuously trying to change that—she would be wide open.

"Your friends and Lieutenant Geoffrey Auberon are there to protect you," Durin offered.

"For now, yes, but you cannot possibly believe they will stay by me the next eight months," Ashe replied. "If you think I will ask them to stay, then you are bigger fools than I thought."

Had she really just said that? Even she was startled by the words that fell out of her mouth, but now that she rethought them she stood by them. She knew perfectly well the possible corruption of the council but she had not given Balthier's warnings of playing her like a puppet the credence it deserved. They treated her like the mouthpiece of their decisions and she would stand her ground on this regard.

They would win in the end. She would not risk the divisiveness of the government to spill into the society, but she could at least buy herself some time.

Balim opened his mouth to retort but she narrowed her eyes, "We will leave it at that. Now, let's discuss the true issue at hand."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Balthier and Sard continued heading west at a relentless pace. Every morning they would rise before dawn, and every morning Sard would ruthlessly beat Balthier into perfecting his swordsmanship. The prince consort had always considered himself a fair hand with the sword, but Sard was supernatural and he took sadistic pleasure in disarming Balthier and slapping his arm in punishment.

As medieval as Balthier found his teaching methods, he noticed Sard would painstakingly run through the same forms and exercises again and again, and he learned. On the fourth day he was able to hold Sard for a full minute, even managing a jab or two before he got soundly cracked on the head, which effectively ended the day's training.

They spent the rest of their days walking in absolute silence. Balthier began to miss his time with Marskot, who actually was susceptible to conversation, but Sard seemed not to trust it. He was still keeping his cards to his chest, which left Balthier still more time to speculate on his character and his goals.

He was surprised that when they happened upon a town, they skirted it in favor of subsisting off nature. It required Sard to hunt every day to satisfy his own voracious appetite that saw nothing left after he picked the meat off the bones. During the day they foraged for fruit. Balthier had preferred to fast at this time, particularly after he'd taken a bite of an Orbin to find a beetle had made its nest inside. But when hunger got the best of him, he carefully checked each fruit thereafter.

The jungle finally started to thin on the fourth day, and then in late evening they walked out into a vast field of waist high grass. Here Sard stopped. Balthier was in such deep torpor, he walked right past him before he also stopped and turn to frown at him.

"Lost your nerve, Sard? You were going so strong."

He paid no attention to him. Instead his eyes were closed and his nose was up as he gingerly sniffed the currents. Balthier cocked his head and watched the creature.

Then he smiled and shook his head with a click of his tongue. "You humes and your pathetic senses. There's no food even remotely close to us. You would have been dead in four days. We're breaking camp here for the night."

Balthier scowled at him, but he did not press the issue. Balthier spent his evening gathering what edible figs, roots, and berries he could find. Fruit would not last more than a day or two, so as he packed them he put them within easy reach to snack on as they walked. He was just finishing his task when Sard came back and he stared. The creature had four rodents over one shoulder, a bird dangling from one paw, and a strange type of Coeurl under the other arm. He dropped all of them and beckoned Balthier over.

"We need these meats skinned and dried by tomorrow morning. You're going to help me or starve. Now go start a fire."

_Gods damn it. There will be no rest tonight, _he thought as he carefully peeled the skin off the unfortunate hare. He glanced over to Sard tackling the Coeurl and saw that he was only a quarter of the way done peeling off its skin. They labored until midnight when the creatures were finally skinned, but then they patiently had to oversee the drying of them over the fire.

"You might as well get to sleep. I know you humes need it so often," Sard growled without turning his attention from the cooking hare.

Again Balthier did not even bother with an irritable reply, but just washed his hands in a nearby stream and fell onto the blanket he had carried. It felt like he hadn't slept for more than a couple of minutes before Sard was shaking him awake, then he shoved some sharp smelling concoction into his hands.

He sniffed it and gazed at him suspiciously.

"Drink it. You will survive the day without collapsing. I need you alert."

"Yes, sir," Balthier muttered and gingerly sipped it.

Its taste was a surprising mixture of minty and sweet, and he began taking more liberal swigs of it until his grogginess slipped away. "What's in this?"

"Boiled water, the leaves of Turvema weed, the petals of the Muren flower, and if you have it a dash of cinnamon," Sard replied as he carefully stuffed his pack full of meat.

"Do you drink this?" Balthier asked with raised eyebrows.

"Sometimes even I can't sleep," Sard said brusquely. "Don't expect it every morning. I had to make some for myself, and there just happened to be some left."

Balthier committed the recipe to memory. _I'm going to have to see if I can convince my Queen to import these ingredients. I can't believe Sard knows something that requires no purpose of violence to make it._ "You ground it all up and put it in the water?"

"Yes, now get moving!"

Balthier pulled his sword from the sheath to protect himself against any wayward swing by Sard.

After their training, they kept their brisk pace, turning southwest with whatever direction Sard's instincts needed them to go. Balthier soon grew weary of the never changing plains. He turned back to find the forest on the horizon had receded until it finally vanished from sight. The restless night followed a frugal meal of berries, figs, and a couple of scraps of meat apiece.

Balthier tossed and turned the entire night away. The unending silence was unnerving him and he was constantly wondered, _Where are all of the animals?_ There wasn't even the dry rustle of a snake through the grass. They were completely and utterly alone. He rolled over again trying to find a spot where the grass did not poke him and his eyes fell on Sard. The creature had curled up into a harmless little ball, his nose hidden under his thick tail, and he had not moved.

_We never set someone to guard. Is he really that confident we won't be attacked._ No, not Sard. _ We would arrange a schedule if he thought we needed it. He's like a professional soldier; he'll be primed to battle no matter the time of day._ It was odd drawing parallels to him and Basch, but at the very least the Archadian Judge was not ruthlessly violent.

Sard was far more like Bergan, but the creature still had a better grasp of teaching techniques than the psychotic Judge ever had. Even after three years the memory of the Judge's cruel ways still haunted him. He shook his head and banished the thought.

They were up training before dawn as usual and set off onto the plains again. It was only when the sun was high over their heads that a keen observation came to him. For the lack of cloud cover, the light of the sun seemed somehow pale and weak as it shined down upon them. He mentioned this to Sard and was surprised when the creature didn't snarl at him.

"Very observant. There's hope for you yet. Yes, it's the power of the Occurria. We're getting very close," Sard said. "You'll know when we're there."

_Still condescending, but far more approachable, _Balthier mused with a sigh.

When they broke camp for the night, it was with unspoken agreement that they knew they would not get much sleep, and Sard actually refrained from waking him up before the sun rose.

"All right, you've slept enough now get up." Sard nudged him none too gently in the ribs, and then when he sat up found the creature dangling a few extra strips of meat in front of him. The prince-consort gave him a bewildered look. "Eat it. It's today." He had also brewed another pot of that herbal concoction and when they finally packed up, Balthier was wired. His stomach still grumbled at him in hunger but he was able to push that aside.

For several hours they continued walking through the grass until Balthier saw it give away. He frowned down at the pale brown power as his feet sink into it, and then his eyes roved around alighting on only a few extra scrubs of the grass that managed to have grown out there. All else was a barren wasteland. It reminded him of the deserts surrounding Dalmasca, but where the sun constantly scorched the dirt, a veil of mist—or was it dust?—hid the land from the sun.

_Just like the Feywood,_ Balthier thought as he struggled to see beyond Sard. Memories of the Myst reflecting his form loomed in front of his eyes, but the Myst here was stagnant and had no reflective properties that he could see. It was like walking through a sandstorm where the wind didn't blow. There were also no Hellhounds or Manti to impede their progress. All around them the land remained vast and empty.

"Stay close," Sard said, startling him from his musings. "It's too easy to get lost on this Myst. You'll lose your mind before you can find your way out." He waited until Balthier drew level with him and then he continued at a slower pace.

They had not walked for more than an hour when Sard stopped again.

"It's here. I think we should leave our packs. They'll only burden us."

"Do you think we'll find them again?"

"This is the rim. As long as we can find the rim, then we can find our way here."

Balthier still hesitantly dropped his pack. As Sard was pulling on his arsenal of knives and loading shot into his gun, Balthier fashioned a tiny pack of a detachable pouch, and then he stuffed as many potions and ethers in it as he could. It was hardly more than a handful, but it would have to do. He substituted another potion for an ether to boost his Magick.

"Sard, do you know what to expect?"

"This far outside of civilization, I would expect something big."

"Big?" _Exceptionally helpful, Sard,_ he grumbled to himself.

"Careful, hume. You're right next to the edge."

"I do have a name, several in fact, but you will find I respond usually to Balthier. Use it well," Balthier replied. He froze when he felt a handful of sand slide bout from beneath one foot and off the edge. He stepped away and dragged his pack with him.

"Are you finally ready, Balthier?"

The prince-consort glared at him. "Are we on a time frame? I would hate for us to be late to the party."

They walked along the edge for an eternity, trying to find some way down. Even in the Myst Sard could discern Balthier's expression and he said, "I'll be damned if I can't get down there." A few minutes later they found their way when Balthier's boot found a surprisingly solid surface. Sard crouched down and swiped the dust away.

"It's decorated. Must be a remnant from an ancient culture," the creature muttered. He walked out onto it, scuffing his paws and slapping his tail against it. "It feels solid, but the decay of time may make it unsound somewhere else. Step lightly."

They followed the rock precipice where it jutted out into the middle of the dusty bowl until it finally ended. Both of them peered down into it, straining to see something more past the stagnant Myst. Balthier scowled. "This fight is going to be like flailing in the dark if the Myst doesn't clear up magically."

Sard gave him no answer, but his eyes continued to sweep the area below. Another minute passed in silence.

Balthier shifted his feet at the low rumbling that was growing beneath his feet. It was so subtle he thought he might have been imagining it, but it grew in presence and volume until he could hear the rock crack, and then the ground began to pitch like an airship in foul weather. Sard set a wide stance and Balthier tried to imitate him, but his boots continued sliding, until he dropped to his knees to keep from being thrown off.

The dust boiled up in a blinding storm to completely engulf them. Balthier hid his eyes with his arms. As the dust continued to swirl, he thought he could hear voices. "Sard?" He tried to peak at the creature, but stinging dust filled the vacuum where his arms had been. The eerie speech continued, but he slowly discerned it as an unintelligible babble in unearthly tides and tones of its voice. Suddenly Sard brushed past him back the way they had come, and he latched onto him with the speed of a snake striking. "Sard, where are you going?" The creature only kicked him in response. When he looked up, he found most of the dust and the ground had settled but he could sense a body beneath him, snorting and snuffling as it moved around the arena. He turned back and saw Sard staring at a point beyond him.

"What are you doing? Aren't we supposed to face this Occuria?"

_Rooooaaawwrr!_

_Boom!_ Balthier latched onto the precipice again. It trembled violently from the swat the creature had given it in its impatience. Balthier looked up again when a dark shape rushed past him, and he tried to snatch Sard's ankle again, but he grabbed only air. He watched as Sard leapt off the structure and disappeared below the rim.

"Sard, you fool! Suicidal tactics is not going to win this," Balthier shouted into the air. Desperately wishing he had telepathy to soundly ream the arrogant bastard, Balthier made his choice. Just like Sard he took a running start and then he flung himself into space.

How many times as a child had he dreamed of flying? He would gaze up at passing airships and it was moments later he could see himself in place of the pilot. The dreaming child had grown into a teenager desperate for reality, for motion. The retreats in the Salika Wood or the Phon Coast allowed him to feel the wind rushing through his hair when he launched himself off cliffs dozens of feet above the water.

Now with everything below him supernaturally veiled in Myst, Balthier felt the first real stabs of fear that there would be nothing to break his fall but an unyielding rock surface. He wasn't sure if time had slowed or if they had been higher above the ground than he thought, but all at once the Myst parted to reveal more dust. The jarring pain from the impact forced him to fall to the side, holding one of his legs close. _Wonderful to start out this fight with a broken leg._

Balthier gently prodded the leg and was pleased to see that even as he did so the pain was beginning to fade away. He would be able to fight without any handicaps. The thought caused him to look up warily at the dust around him, and when he felt a paw grab his shoulder he twisted away from it and flung a fist that struck his attacker in the face. He staggered to his feet felt a stab of guilt to find Sard glaring at him while he held his nose.

"You imbecile, it's me."

"As if you're any less dangerous," Balthier replied, standing lightly on his leg. He was pleased to see it held up.

"Do not tempt me," the creature said with a growl.

"Where is it?" Sard nodded in its direction.

"Balthier first noticed the gigantic horns and the tusks protruding out from under its lip. Its head might not have been small if not for the massive shoulders it was positioned in front of. Red eyes glowed out from under the heavy brow, and its skin was a mixture of shiny black fur and saurian scales. Its four powerfully muscled legs ended with hooves that pawed at the ground, ready to charge. The breath of the beast fumed out in great big snorts as it eyed them hungrily.

"How do they come up with these creatures?" Balthier asked. He had to forcibly keep his fear at bay.

"Power, Balthier, power. They're just testing which form is best for destroying pests like us," Sard replied.

Balthier was becoming increasingly alarmed at Sard's less than assertive attitude. _Was he biding his time? Was he waiting for the Occuria to make the first move?_ The prince-consort had a feeling that wasn't the case and he was becoming edgy. "Sard, why are you—"

It charged. Despite its bulk it was rapidly closing the distance and Balthier started running a few steps off to one side when he looked back to see that Sard had frozen. The creature who had survived getting gored by an Elkin and had fallen from an airship was desperately looking for a way out of the charging beast and he was coming up with few options.

"Sard, move!"

Seconds before it reached them, they both dived in opposite directions. Balthier turned back to see it was hot on Sard's tail, and the creature was dodging and rolling to miss those stomping hooves and the stabbing horns.

Balthier ran up the Occuria with his sword out and put all of his strength in a blow to its ribs. It merely glanced off its scales. _No!_ His courage turned to anguish as he struggled to think of a weakness. He then aimed his sword at the fur-covered hindquarters and his anxiety turned into satisfaction. He jumped back to evade those angry horns, leaving his sword still buried in its side.

He heard Sard call his name as he stuck close to its flank to make use of its inflexibility. It refocused its anger onto Sard and just as it roared, he saw something fly over its bulk and clatter to the ground a matter of feet away.

_The sword. _Yes, the one that Erinna had given them. Balthier turned back and bit back a cry of horror at the sight of Sard's body beneath the Occuria's hooves, his head being buffeted by the pair of horns. Balthier dived for the sword and was momentarily off-balance by its weight. Gripping it tightly in both hands he ran back to the Occuria and drove it into the ribs. This time the skin gave, sinking the blade almost to the hilt, and he pulled it back out.

It stumbled trying to reach him and he could see it wavering on its feet. Balthier smirked, but his moment of victory was short lived when it shook its great head and charged again. The prince-consort attempted to side step it so that he might have a better chance to deliver the killing stab, but it turned with him and a horn went right through his stomach.

Pain seared through his head but he found his actions utterly detached. Blooded welled up in his throat and he coughed on it, but his voice had completely left him. _We've failed._ The thought was like a white hot firebrand and even as he refused to acknowledge it, he was regaining the use of his limbs again. He tried to pull the horn out of him, but it was difficult when his feet were dangling in air.

Then it jolted and he slid off with a choked moan. He forced himself to keep his eyes open and then he leveraged himself up again to see Sard trying to keep its attention. His partner was in terrible shape. There was a gash above his brow and he moved stiffly trying to evade the Occuria again. When he saw Balthier watching him he gave him a hard look.

He looked around for the sword and found it a couple of feet away. Still holding his stomach as though afraid his organs would fall out, Balthier hobbled over to it and picked it up with one hand, dragging it along behind him as he carefully made his way over the Occuria. Its attention was yet again on Sard and the creature was getting such a beating from the horn and the hooves, Balthier vaguely wondered if he'd still be alive by the time he managed the walk over there.

_I only get one more shot and then we're both going to be stomped into the next world, _he thought as he hesitantly let go of his stomach. He would need both arms to manage this. Instead of going for the ribs, Balthier drove it into its neck. It staggered. When it turned to roar in agony, it gurgled and this time it could not shake the weakness from its head. Balthier pulled the sword back out and fell back, completely vulnerable to its will, but all it could do was fall to its side and with a last unearthly moan it fell silent and did not stir.

Balthier immediately started the healing spell. The pain subsided from his stomach and as he rubbed the skin there he could tell the wound had healed, but his conscious was failing him. He blinked blearily into the Myst and finally fell asleep.

He woke up just as the night was starting to settle in and he sat up abruptly. The Occuria still lay dead and had already begun to smell like death, but he could not find Sard anywhere. "Oh, shit. What if he's dead?" He said to himself and felt his heart quicken. As little as he liked the beast, he was still his partner and he had sacrificed his wellbeing to see the job done.

"Sard," he called out, stumbling to the other side of the Occuria's body. "Sard." The creature was lying on his back and even in the low light Balthier could see his auburn fur was caked with blood and he did not stir.

Balthier dropped down beside him and turned him over onto his back. "Sard, gods, don't be dead. I cannot win this alone. Don't be dead." The creature's eyes opened with the movement and he opened his mouth into a vicious hiss and he lashed at Balthier's hand on his ribs.

"Oooonggh…my ribs," Sard moaned, rocking back and forth and whimpering a little with the pain. "Where were you? I thought you were dead."

"Well, getting gored in the stomach does tend to take life out of you," Balthier replied as he bent down and tried to examine Sard, but the light was so faint he could not tell beneath his fur. "Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere. I think…it stepped on my ribs," Sard gasped. He tried to hold still while Balthier prodded the bones beneath the fur and skin. He grimaced when they moved slightly underneath his fingers and Sard yelped in pain.

"A far cry from the tough warrior whose fingers I broke."

"Well, I'll break your ribs."

"Getting a hole in my stomach was enough for me." His energy continued to drain and he had to stop. He sat back and gripped his head, willing it to make the world stop spinning in front of his eyes. Fumbling with the small pack, he opened it to find at least two of his potions had broken, making the interior a sloppy mess. Digging out one of the Ethers he downed it in a matter of gulps, trying to ignore the icily bitter taste of it in his mouth and his energy immediately returned again.

He expended the better half of it again on Sard's wounds, but even when he was completely healed he moved like an old man. "We have got to make a better performance record than this. Nearly dying twice against two of the Occuria? Our luck might not hold the next time."

"What do you expect us to do, Sard?" Balthier asked with a slight edge to his voice. "We are training every morning, but that will never get us past the fact that we are only flesh and blood."

"Making a plan before rushing into such a fight might help." Balthier heard him snort at the thought, too, but the prince-consort still refuted it.

"We had no idea what to expect when we jumped in here. If you managed to convince the Occuria to wait while we plan their demise, I would fear they would have a plan of their own."

"Paranoia begets paranoia." This hushed both of them for a few seconds and then Sard changed the subject. "Let's find a way out of here. I do not want to be doing that search in the morning."

He staggered off stiffly into the Myst and Balthier followed him closely. He wasn't sure how they managed to find their way out, but they spent half of their night crawling on their hands. Or climbing. It took another hour of crawling to literally trip over their packs and they curled up around them without bothering to pull out blankets.

Balthier found himself awake at the usual time before dawn. He continued lying there in a sedated stupor when he remembered Sard was probably going to shake him any second and he bolted upright. Though the Occuria was dead the Myst still hung in the air, obscuring everything outside of a ten foot radius. He looked next to him to find Sard still curled up into a tight ball, his eyes fastened shut and his sides expanding in slow, deep breaths.

He lay back down but his fretting and tension kept him from falling asleep for too long, always believing Sard was going to shake him awake any second. It never came. Balthier eventually gave up sleeping and instead chewed on some strips of meat until Sard stirred sometime later. He stretched much like a cat, bending his back and flexing his claws before shaking his body out. Then got into his own pack and rooted around for his own rations.

"I thought the Occuria would make peace with us before you slept to such a late hour." Sard ignored him.

He only spoke when he said, "I want out of this Myst. Let's get moving."

The Occuria was defeated but they continued to walk in the natural void in apprehension. They maintained their pace even after night fall, desperately wishing they would not have to spend another day in the still fog. They were willing to risk the exhaustion to spend the next morning walking under the lively boughs of the forest, to restore their sense of reality that the Myst distorted in their minds.

The night was so black Balthier had to have a hand on Sard's arm to keep from wandering off the course.

"Sard, do you know where we're going?"

"There are senses other than the eyes to follow. This is the right way!"

Balthier gave him no answer, but chewed at his lip in nervousness. He did not fancy being lost in this Myst until he died.

In the early morning, just before dawn he glanced around in the dark. "Sard, are we near the trees."

"Quiet," Sard said and although they kept walking they had slowed, making less noise than usual.

_Schwing._ The creature pulled out one of his swords.

Too late. Balthier felt something push him to the ground and Sard cried out in surprise. Hands, human hands, were all over him and although Balthier fought, throwing punches and twisting away, they still shoved a burlap bag over his head, and then grabbed his hands and tied them together tight enough to cut into his skin.

From the movements in the grass and the shrieks of pain from those injured by Sard, he could tell that at least a dozen bodies had gotten the jump on them. When Balthier was hauled to his feet, it slowly dawned that they were well and truly capture and that there was no hope of escape.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

"Sard!?" Balthier's face was already slick from the moisture in his breath and he did his best to control his panic, but he could hear only muffled voices through the fabric.

Someone shoved a thick knob of rope into his hand and said, "Start walking?"

He did not move, but continued standing until someone gave him a sore blow to the back of his knees, causing him to crumple. "If you won't walk, we'll drag you and I guarantee it's not bound to be pleasant. Now pick up your feet."

Balthier could see no alternative. He allowed himself to be led off to the gods knew where. He could tell from the rustle of grass that whoever these people were had ventured out onto the lifeless plains when there had clearly been no one here before when they passed. Had Sard led them to another part of the forest? One that clearly had humes living nearby? But he had difficulty believing that anyone else might be fool enough to wander around such a lifeless plain. They had to have been looking for something. Had these people been waiting for him and Sard? _But why?_ Were they being tracked for the death of that Occurian in that tiny town Balthier had tracked his partner too? So many factors were piling themselves into his head and few of them made much sense. Though he was tired of waiting for answers, he was even more exhausted of speculating them on his own, so he decided to waiting a little longer could do no harm. He just hoped to all the gods out there that they would be forthcoming.

His captors were gracious enough to pull the bag from his eyes and he gratefully sucked in deep breaths of fresh air. Balthier's eyes roved around to find himself in an encampment with soldiers clad in armor and in some cases wearing the Rozarrian military uniforms. His heart stopped. He and Sard had been captured by a military regiment. Ten feet away one soldier was slipping a harness fit for a beast onto Sard who was bound both hand and foot, subdued by a sleeping spell.

"So, you're the ones wandering the Fallen Plains. What were you doing out there?" The speaker was a Rozarrian with shockingly white hair that might have bespoke his true age, but his face was clear and smooth of wrinkles and sternly stared down at Balthier with the air of someone who tolerated no nonsense. The first person that came to mind was the Marquis Halim Ondore, but the warmth and weary kindness was not there. Then he realized he was none other than General Reeve Al-Tamir of Rozarria's Military Force.

_Shit, how am I going to talk my way out of this?_ They had met only once before and he had an idea that the only reason the other man did not recognize his face was due to the dirt, the grime, the sweat, and the beard he had grown to hide his identity.

"Speak now! It would be best to tell the truth. I know when you are lying."

Balthier was running out of options. He had hoped desperately not to encounter a problem such as this, but walking around Rozarria and stirring up events was hardly a way to stay unnoticed. _Is this why Sard kept out of towns? _Whatever the reason was, it had done them little good if they had intended to stay unnoticed. Balthier decided to try and slip a lie past him. Perhaps it would fly? He could only try.

"The Fallen Plains? No wonder we got lost. I don't think they were on our map."

"Who are you and who's your friend?"

"I am Arun Rakesh and that creature is my partner and he answers by the name of Samson. We are merely travelers, explorers."

"Is that so? Why travel so heavily armed? Surely a sword and maybe one gun would be enough to protect yourself along the dangerous road," he replied, his eyes twinkling and to Balthier he looked like a cat toying with a mouse.

"You can never be sure what sort of evils plague the roads of the wilderness. Best to be careful."

"Yet, with all of those weapons to protect you your clothes are caked with blood. Had a run in with some dangerous beast?"

"You could say that," Balthier said and he shuddered at the thought of the Elkin-like Occurian who had tried to crush the life from their bodies.

The General leaned crouched down by Balthier and peered straight into his eyes, and the prince-consort was intent on holding the stare. A noble born and bred and now married to a queen, he was adept at keeping his face clean, but as so many others close to him kept reminding him he could never keep his eyes clear.

"And what of the dust?"

"Dust?"

"Yes, that column of dust from the Fallen Plains. I've never seen ought like it before. Are you its cause?"

At the very least Balthier could show genuine confusion. Yes, the Occurian, for as small as it had been, had kicked up plenty of dust upon its arrival but he hadn't realized just how much that had been. Balthier shook his head. "I could only see Myst."

_Crack._ The General's hand shot out and hit him smartly on the cheek. The amusement was gone and the cat was no longer content with toying. "Don't lie to me! Did I not warn you that I can tell when the prisoners are lying? When you've dealt with so many of them you start to develop this sixth sense to tell more easily."

"That creature you claim is your partner. Do you really know who he is or do you just fancy him a harmless traveler such as yourself? I have spent years trying to track down his hide; I am sure he is the cause of so many innocent citizens and bounty hunters, who have met a grisly death at his claws, but always I have been one step behind. But now, I have him. And what about you? You seem not to be an accomplice in his dealings. Are you a delusional prisoner, tormented to be his slave until he dispatches of you? Speak!"

Balthier was beginning to panic. Trying to slip another lie past the General would be nigh impossible yet…he could _not_ give him the truth. Since this chase had started, he had consistently hoped they would not meet such a hitch and they could kill the Occuria without anyone realizing that he had been alive all this time. It was easier to cheat death when everyone already thought you were already dead. Queen Ashelia would certainly hold no worries for him so that if he died a second time, she would not suffer anymore than she already had. Being thought dead made it that much easier to continue this foolhardy mission. He had never thought once of perhaps visiting the queen because he knew that if he had, his resolve would fail him.

He glanced around the area, willing for Erinna to magically appear and extract the pair of them from this situation but they were surrounded completely.

"No, no, I can't!" Balthier shook his head and closed his mouth, refusing to say anything more. Pain erupted onto his cheek and he tried to keep from inhaling dirt when he found himself on the ground.

Opening his eyes, he caught sight of Sard who was awake, mutely staring at him. They both followed the General when he walked over to Sard and pulled out a long knife, placing it against his throat. The creature thrashed but the general held his down and kept the knife there.

"Speak or he dies."

_No, no, no, no, no. _Balthier had no solution. He could not win this war without Sard, but he could not risk his continued existence leaking over into Dalmasca. As much as he screamed not to, he made his compromise.

"Please, not here. I will not utter a word of truth until I may speak to you alone," he said, continuing to lie on the ground, feeling completely defeated.

General Al-Tamir eyed him imperiously, removing the blade and his hand from Sard and stepping back. Balthier could not stand to look his partner in the eyes. The general suddenly stepped over and hauled Balthier onto his feet by the collar of his shirt. "I think you will be true to your word, now walk. We are heading into the forest, away from prying eyes and listening ears."

They walked for some time, Balthier's head bowed in defeat as he placed one foot in front of the other. There was no use in trying to bolt. The General was old, but he was hardly complacent and he knew that he could catch him and haul him back with little effort.

"Stop." When he did, the General circled him for one full resolution, and then he asked, "Who are you? What are you doing here? And why on Ivalice are you traveling with such a despicable creature?"

Balthier drew in a long shuddering breath and then he let the story spill out. "I am Balthier Bunansa. I have been traveling for the past two weeks with…my partner so that we may destroy a great evil that is the threatening the lives of not only my queen, but everyone else in the world. Please, we seek only to destroy those who wish to see Ivalice under the yoke of the gods again."

General Al-Tamir stuck his hand out and brought Balthier's chin up, peering into his eyes carefully. His dark brown eyes were widened in surprise and they roved over Balthier's face, until he finally let him go and he nodded. "You _are_ the Prince-consort. No mistake. I remember meeting you last year when you and the Queen Ashelia visited to strengthen ties between our two countries. Good gods, man. You are supposed to be dead!"

"I know." Here Balthier raised his eyes, and despite the terrible pain he had dealt himself his eyes had hardened and he looked intently into the General's eyes. "And it _must_ remain that way. I cannot have my queen realizing I am alive only to die in the end! I will not suffer my friends to fly down and aid me, no matter how much I need it. This is something that my partner and I alone are supposed to do, charged to do. Leave it to us."

"Hold on a moment. What is this threat you keep mentioning?"

"The threat of the Occuria."

General Al-Tamir cocked his head and said, "Now, I do recall that they were meant to be the perpetrators of the last war, along with Vayne Solidor, but this sounds little more than delusional, inane babble."

"Believe what you will, it is what must be done." Balthier's eyes were sparking. "It is the Occuria who tried to see me dead two weeks ago. They will try it again if this threat goes ignored. You don't have to believe me, you just have to realize that I must do this."

There was a long silence. Balthier had bowed his head again, keeping his eyes closed. As much fire he showed in his last response, his heart still ached in the defeat of keeping his own secret, but what could he have done? As much respect as he had for Al-Tamir, he knew his reputation to be little more than a cold genius, not much different from Vayne Solidor but he allowed himself to be subject to the Rozarrian King's orders.

"What is that creature's name out there?"

"That is not for me to tell. In fact, I know nothing about him other than his name and that we are intent on seeing our goal through to the end."

There was another long silence and Balthier carefully watched the General stare at the ground lost in his own thoughts. Then he finally said, "Prince-consort Balthier Bunansa. I will do my damndest to keep your secret safe, however, I caution you thus, information as promising as your continued existence will be extremely difficult to keep under wraps. We both know that information has a way of leaking, but if we do this in exchange for the peace you promise us by the elimination of these Occuria then I imagine I can convince my superiors to support me on this. You do realize, though, that I must share this within the upper circle of our Kingdom's hierarchy. It is going to be a national scandal when it breaks out that we kept your identity secret and allowed you safe haven from Dalmasca, but I will see that it is done." He pulled his sword out and pointed it straight at Balthier's head. "I sincerely hope you may deliver on your promise, or I will be a dead man."

They walked back to the encampment on much easier terms and General Al-Tamir promised to have his bonds retied for more mobility and less pain, but he would be forced to wear them and act a prisoner. Balthier muttered something akin to consent, but the General seemed to understand and only pressed him about wandering around the Fallen Plains and the duel in Turend.

Once back the General immediately walked over to the restrained Sard who was glaring up at him with the utmost hatred. "Care to give me your side of the story?" Balthier looked up to find Sard had switched his gaze to his and gave him no remorse.

_Gods, maybe it would have been better just to not talk. I better be careful Sard doesn't murder me in my sleep,_ he thought but as he continued to tell himself, it couldn't be helped. Perhaps it could if they had not been caught, but it was futile to continue the thought. They were not going to have the chance to go back in time and see that things happened otherwise. The only way Balthier could see out of this is if they just to go with the flow. Sard would have to forgive him if they had any chance against the Occuria. Or just begrudgingly cooperate.

General Al-Tamir bent down and undid the harness from his mouth then stepped back. Everyone in the camp stopped momentarily to watch as he stared down at the creature and said, "Well?"

Sard hissed and curled up into a ball as much as he could.

Al-Tamir chuckled at his behavior and said, "No matter. As long as you refrain from biting anybody I will forbid you to be harnessed and promise you the same protection as your friend Arun here."

The next few days were traveled in absolute, stoic silence. Sard refused to look Balthier in the eye and although he had cooperated as far as not chewing off any poor soldiers' hands, he still refused to offer any information. Although one evening a soldier had circled them maliciously, as though he had a mind to pry information straight from Sard's jaws so that he may move up in the ranks. The poor boy ended up needing ten stitches in his left arm to seal the gaping wound Sard's teeth had left there.

"No one is allowed to question the prisoners except for me. Clearly, the one creature is not to be taken lightly," General Al-Tamir said.

When dusk of the next day approached, Sard and Balthier found themselves being shunted onto a ship that had been parked outside of a nearby town. Balthier was starting to get more nervous as they approached the capital city. Would General Al-Tamir's promise hold through and he was granted a few more weeks of privacy to see the last of the Occuria dead? Hope was all he had.

Sard too seemed to be growing increasingly uneasy and he started pacing the room they were being held in.

After the countless time that Sard crossed the room, the Prince-consort's temper finally ran through. "Unless you can find a way to pace through the floor then stop. This flight is unsettling enough without you adding to it."

"Yes, spilling everything was a gracious thing to do."

"Do not even bother. He still knows nothing about you. I didn't even give him your name, but he knows that you are behind all those head hunter disappearances. He's been tracking you for sometime from what I can tell."

Sard scowled at him.

"I did what I had to do! I know General Al-Tamir well enough that he rarely makes idle threats. We would both be dead if neither of us had talked, and then the world would fall under the yoke of the Occuria once more. I _cannot_ allow that to happen. You may have little invested in this venture, but I have much more and I will not stop until they are dead," Balthier said in a deeply scathing voice.

"What makes you think the General will keep his promise? He could just as easily throw us to the saurians when we arrive for the sport of the Royals!"

"Because he has just as much to lose under the power of the Occuria."

Sard snorted, but he continued his pacing, and Balthier sighed in frustration. He did notice that occasionally the creature would stop and raise his eyes up to stare at the door. His fur would then bristle and his thick tail would thrash behind him before returning to his path. His paws were linked in the front, but he saw the paws brush his left thigh where his gun was supposed to be holstered.

The Prince-consort had found it interesting for some time that Sard's main sword arm just happened to be his left and the only reason he could think of for his nervous twitch was that Sard desperately wished for a weapon of comfort. Without his weapons he appeared strangely small and surprisingly defenseless, although Balthier had certainly had more than one encounter with those claws of his.

He shook his head and sighed, and then leaned his head back to catch a few more winks of sleep.

His eyes shot open and he jumped to his feet at the guttural growls coming from Sard. The creature was standing not a foot away from him and he snarled at the four guards sent as escorts.

"Just relax," Balthier whispered and Sard turned to him in annoyance, his lip still curled, but his fur was no longer bristling. They were both ushered out at four gun points where they eventually met up with General Al-Tamir who braved walking in front of them without fear of Sard's potential wrath.

They were forced to wait for an audience with the King and Queen of Rozarria, and though they were off the airship, Sard continued to squirm. He was shifting his wait constantly from foot to foot and his lip curled of its own volition as he continued to glare at the gold inlaid doors.

Balthier hazarded a chance to lean in and whisper, "What has gotten into you? Control yourself or you'll have both of us thrown into the dungeons."

He saw Sard flex his paws and then shuddered the tension from his body before he turned to Balthier and said just as quietly, "There's an Occurian here. Just beyond that door. It's him."

The Prince-consort's heart skipped a beat. Sard's senses had certainly not failed them the last two Occuria. He had to be right. But Balthier had little time to consider this prospect when the doors opened and they were forced to follow the General inside.

Marskot continued to hold onto the vain hope that perhaps the Occurians would meet their end some day, but the hope that it would be in his lifetime dwindled with each passing day. He was in ghastly condition. The slavers insisted on a slim diet that had wasted his muscles away and his face was hallowing out into little more than skull. His hair was so grimy and greasy he could no longer be considered a blonde. He groaned as the handle of the pickaxe he was using slipped through his sweaty palms, causing a couple of the blisters that had formed there to break and make the handle even slipperier with his blood. He wiped the blood off on his stained shorts and dug the pickaxe one more time into the rock, slowly chipping away.

The Vanitian's had a preference for slaves to dig into their Magicite mines and the Occurians had no moral qualms plopping Marskot down into the middle of it. Why he was there he wasn't sure. To pass the grueling hours of the day away, he considered all the options and thought perhaps the Occurians had decided to be done with him and make him live the last of his days in sun blistering torment, to die alone.

But then Marskot had a niggling fear that they weren't quite done with him yet. Since he had killed Balthier, the last couple of weeks had been a perpetual haze. In fact, he wasn't sure if two weeks or only a few days had passed. It was all blending into a thick miasma of confusion, and it wasn't long before Marskot stopped trying to make sense of it all.

All that remained constant was the burning sun, the pickaxe in his hands, and the gnawing presence of hunger and thirst.

_Sari, I failed you. Everyone. I hope you've left me for dead and moved on, because I am hardly worth the sacrifice, _he mused to himself.

"Keep working, scum!" Marskot hissed and flinched at the pain of the whip leaving another stripe on his back.

He had considered dropping the pickaxe and letting them strike him until they flayed the skin off of his bones. It was awfully tempting.

_No more than what I deserve, _Marskot thought bitterly. He hadn't managed to kill himself, but he found other creative ways to top off the suffering he sustained already. He had once purposely cracked himself in the head with the pickaxe, cracking his skull open and leaving him collapsed and his forehead bleeding. He came to well past nightfall to find the guards had simply left him lying there for the predators to pick off.

He had survived the night somehow and found himself back on the slave line in the morning with the very same pickaxe. They warned that if he did something like that again they would not be so lenient.

The pickaxe rose and fell in familiar motion. He was going to die here among such simplistic familiarity. There was no hope, and especially no salvation. As the day wore on, Marskot came to grips that although he was born into nobility he would die a slave. As would everyone else.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Balthier's first impression of the magnificent hall of Rozarria's palace much reminded him of his first encounter with Al-Cid. Windows stretched up to disappear at the edge of the ceiling, decorated by architectural moldings laced in gold leafing. A painting of clouds, angels, and robust, striped carnivores all peered down at them as they walked the length of the hall. He had seen such rich decorations in the Archadian Palace but despite his disdain for the extravagant wealth used on the nobles' buildings, he could not deny it was impressive.

The massive hall which could have easily held a thousand people was empty save for a small congregation gathered around the pair of thrones. Balthier felt oddly privileged that the rulers would be willing to grant him so much credence, but now that he thought about it, General Al-Tamir's reputation likely had more to do with it.

As they continued to approach the royal family and its most trusted advisors, Balthier could not help but subconsciously note the heavily stained clothes that he and Sard were both wearing. Sard especially would likely be an unnerving sight. His clothes looked worse by far as the bloodstains had dried everywhere and made him look more like a serial killer than he had when Balthier first encountered him.

He looked up at Sard's face and was unsurprised to see him staring at the royal family with apathetic disdain. There was no possible way to tell Sard to straighten up without whispering, but if they were going to escape this hall with their heads and without a prison sentence then he was going to need every ounce of diplomacy and charm that he could find.

King Russell Margrace XVI and his Queen Bela sat regal and measured in their thrones, and unlike old Emperor Gramis appeared every inch the power behind the country. Ashe had often complained of the headpieces she was forced to wear, but Queen Bela put her to shame with the headpiece woven into her thick dark hair. Half a dozen of their sons and daughters were standing on either side of the carpeted pathway. Once he drew level to them, Balthier was relieved to see Al-Cid was not among them.

Balthier stopped abruptly just behind General Al-Tamir's cape after the man suddenly swept down onto one knee and bowed his head low to the ground. "My Majesty's, the King and Queen Margrace, I have returned from my foray to investigate the mysterious events that fell under your domain. I know not if I found the culprits, as it were, but I have instead found The Prince-consort of her Royal Highness Queen Ashelia Bunansa," General Al-Tamir announced. Balthier was surprised by the silence that greeted this announcement, however he noticed some members of the royal family couldn't resist leaning forward to see for themselves if he was the real one.

"Who is the other one?" The King asked, turning his eyes to meet Sard.

Balthier noticed out of his peripheral that Sard obliged not inciting any unwanted feelings by keeping his eyes turned to the ground. _Maybe I can manage this after all. He at least isn't too stubborn to ruin this chance._

"I am unsure. He refuses to give his name, but I have offered him the same protection under Lord Bunansa's plea that they are together," General Al-Tamir replied.

Sard hissed lightly under his breath, and then he raised his chin and said, "My name is Sard."

The General turned toward them. His dark eyes pierced through them, but when Sard refused to offer anything more he relented. "Lord Bunansa has been considerably more generous, speaking of what he has been doing since his death was reported two weeks ago."

_Captain Bunansa! Gods, does no one outside of the Dalmascan military know? _Balthier thought, trying to maintain his composure. He had never worried so much about his image even in front of the council and he found the concern nerve-wracking.

The General finally stepped to the side, so that Balthier and Sard could step up closer to the two thrones. With his hands still tied he stepped back and fell to one knee, in the same bow as Al-Tamir. Sard was a second behind him, but he refused to expose any part of his neck to the royal family and he kept his eyes up, even as his head dipped. Praying silently that no one would take offense at such an action, Balthier finally stood up and awaited their questions.

"Lord Balthier Bunansa, two weeks ago we received information that you had been murdered by Lord Marskot Demarlgen of Dorstonia, and a week we heard that you were put to rest in Dalmasca. How is it that you are standing before us now?"

Balthier was silent at first. He had known perfectly well that this was a question that would be asked more than once, and he still did not have a sufficient answer to explain it away without any hubris. The closest explanation would be that he faked his own death, but he did not like the connotations of it: deceiving not only the world, but his own wife. No matter the reason he had for it, it sounded insidious even to him.

"The circumstances around it were not without harm, but the reports have been exaggerated. As you can see, I am very much alive and well, and we all know there is no spell that can reawaken the dead," he replied. _Always look the person in the eye, and the lie should fly. _It was an adage he had learned from an old sky pirate whose name he had long forgotten, but he never did forget the white beard, his leathery, tanned skin, and the wicked twinkle in his eye.

The King Margrace frowned at him, the expression made more severe by his considerable goatee. It was so quiet it seemed everyone in the throne room held their breath until the king spoke again, "If your death was mistaken, there must be a suitable reason as to why you continue to live under that presumption and have not informed your wife, assuming that you haven't in fact informed the Queen Ashelia."

"She does indeed remain ignorant of my existence," the Prince-consort said. His amber eyes slid over to Sard for a second and noticed that the creature did not appear to be staring at the king and queen, but something else. He would figure that out later.

"This is where we get to business, if that is my understanding. You want us to keep the secret that you are still alive, even from your own wife and ruler. Why?" The King asked, and here he actually leaned forward a little.

Balthier drew his lips into a line. He did not like being referred to as one of his wife's subjects and his eyes were blazing when he answered. "I have good reason. While Dalmasca has grown and continues to gain strength in this peaceful climate, it remains vulnerable to undercurrents of mutiny and assassination. The sympathizers of Vayne Solidor's empire still exist."

"Everyone in this throne room can understand that, Prince-consort Bunansa, but what puzzles me is why you continue to keep your death a secret. I have no doubt the strength you would add to Dalmasca's security if everyone knew you were still alive."

"Allow me to finish, your highness," Balthier said. His knuckles were white from being clenched and the rope he was bound with rubbed against his wrists as he tried to pull them a part. "Those sympathizers wished to see me dead. If they still believe I am dead then I can move to eliminate the threat at my leisure. Also, bringing this threat to light will only exacerbate tensions with nations who might be unwillingly harboring these agents."

"Another reason I would like to keep this quiet is because I obviously cannot protect my wife from so far away. Assassins could move faster to strike down the Queen Ashelia before Dalmasca can regain its former strength," he said.

There was a moment of silence as all that he said sunk in. Then the Queen Bela spoke in a handsome deep voice, "You play a dangerous game, Prince-consort Bunansa. The price is high should you fail to meet your goals."

Balthier stood up straighter. "As do we all. However, I must do this for my country, if not for my queen."

There was another long silence in which Balthier observed an entirely silent conversation. The king and queen seemed to be speaking to each other by mere expressions alone and he flit his eyes between the two, wondering if they might actually be telepathic.

"I have come to my decision regarding you swiftly. Though the risk of concealing your presence may be great, I foresee its long term consequences will serve to benefit our kingdom as well as the peace that has been so difficult to maintain," King Russel said. "However, this does not come without a task upon you." But then he turned to look at Sard. "And what of you, sir? Lord Bunansa has a request, do you not?"

"I seek nothing from you. My goals coincide with," and here Sard turned to curl his lip at Balthier, "_Lord Bunansa_, and all I need is to retain my freedom to see the end of this with him."

"Very well. General Al-Tamir, explain the situation to them."

Al-Tamir swept back onto the scene and he turned his back to them to address the king. "My sources inform me that the Vanitians are rallying their military to push against our border. I have dispatched the 4th brigade should they attack during our preparations, but the threat against a full-scale invasion is serious. They are amassing all of their forces outside the small city Dubar."

"What does this have to do with us?" Sard asked, but his expression was of utmost boredom.

"We will allow you the freedom to pursue your enemies if you will contribute to the strength of our army. Or were all those weapons my troops confiscated for show?"

_Shit._ Balthier hung his head. The Leading Man participated in warfare only when there was no alternative. He had hoped to avoid such a large scale of bloodshed, but from the way Sard was grinning he imagined the creature wouldn't accept any other option. The royal family continued their regal and stolid demeanor, but he could see they were unnerved by Sard's smile. It showed all of his gleaming teeth made for ripping, and his black eyes had narrowed to slits of pleasure. It was carnal.

Sard did not bother to look his way. "We agree to fight this major battle, but our time cannot be wholly consumed by it, or we may not get the chance to prevent another war," Balthier said. The words were heavy and speaking them caused Balthier to slump slightly. Would this nightmare never end, or would he be slain on the battlefield before he could finish it?

"Very well. We will keep your secret safe, Lord Bunansa. Take them to their rooms and see that they are brought food," King Russell Margrace said.

Balthier turned to follow a female servant who appeared, but Sard was still focused on the General. He stepped over to him and glared up at him threateningly before pointing a claw into his chest. "Give us our weapons. The one you took from us."

"You will receive them at the battlefield, Sard."

"No, you will give them to us now."

"You don't need them here."

Sard barked a laugh. "How did a fool like you become a General? What do you suppose we should train with? Wooden swords? Pathetic."

General Al-Tamir was easily half a head taller than Sard, and he drew himself up to tower over the creature. "They will suffice for now. I suggest you leave to find you room."

Balthier had never seen Sard angry before, but he imagined the look of pure death on his face was mere prelude to violent retaliation, and he spoke in a slow, measured tone. "Give me my weapons."

"Sard," Balthier stepped in, partially blocking Al-Tamir from any harm, "you're just going to have to cope. Being hostile is not going to win you favors."

The beast snorted and turned to walk away without another word. Balthier nodded cordially and then followed. He was almost to the door when Al-Tamir said, "One moment, Lord Bunansa."

_Am I ever going to leave this hall?_ Balthier's stomach gave an unpleasant lurch when it roared from hunger, and every muscle in his body ached from exhaustion and lingering pains. Al-Tamir pulled out his knife and slice through the rope bonds. "Ah, thank you," Balthier said, pulling the ropes from his chafed wrists, and he rubbed his fingers over the sores.

"I guess I'll cope without use of my paws, too," Sard said suddenly.

Balthier bit back a groan at the electricity humming between the two. The General appeared ready to simply turn and ignore the creature, but the Prince-consort interrupted him. "Cut his bonds."

"Fine, but he's your responsibility, Lord Bunansa."

The next crisis averted Sard and Balthier finally made it past the threshold of the great hall and into the plush outer halls of the palace. Sard stayed quiet but his expression was a thunderstorm and he swept along so quickly he almost overtook the frightened servant girl. They were completely silent as the girl continued walking, shooting furtive glances in Sard's direction as he walked beside her. If he noticed, he took little heed.

"Excuse me, sir, this will be your room," the servant said to Baltheir. She stopped and opened the finely polished wooden door, then bowed her head and refused to look at him until he finally walked in.

"Thank you," he muttered. The room was not especially large, but it was furnished with a beautiful mahogany bed frame, desk, a small book case, and a bureau. He was surprised to see his pack sitting on a couch that was set against the back wall.

"Will this do, sir?"

"It's perfect."

"Very good. Baths will be drawn for both of you in half an hour. Do you have spare clothes?"

"Err…one set," Balthier said, turning around to her.

"Hmm…I will try to get you another pair. Now, please settle yourself and rest. I will be back to lead you to your bath." She bowed again and then turned and he saw her face pale when she finally looked at Sard. "Please, follow me sir. I will show you to your room."

"What? No, I don't want another room. I'm staying here," Sard said.

Balthier whirled around with shock all over his face. "Why? You realize you don't have to spend every waking minute with me."

Sard made no reply, just stepped into the room and sat down on the floor.

_Can I never get away from him? Why must he be around me? _Balthier grumbled to himself, but he shoved the thoughts out of his mind and merely accepted that Sard was going to continue to be his roommate. He walked over to the bed and fell back on it with his arms outstretched and his eyes closed. "A bath. A _real_ bath. I cannot wait."

"Hmmph. I hope we eat soon. That intolerable general didn't give us much on the ship," Sard said bitterly. Balthier sat up and saw for the first time how exhausted and feeble Sard had looked. All of that anger and posture had been merely a façade.

_Well, sustenance has been sparse, _Balthier thought. Even he had gone without food for the great part of that day and yesterday they were given only soup. He had wondered for several hours if this starvation was intentional or if the General did not have the supplies. _It shouldn't be a problem anymore. I imagine food will follow up our baths._

It was then Balthier recalled Sard's agitation and he sat up abruptly. "Sard, you said the Occuria was in the same court as we were. Do you know who it was? Surely not one of the Royal Fami—"

"No. He was that portly fellow on the left with the red hair."

The Prince-consort wrinkled his nose. "Is that so? I would have expected someone a bit more…intimidating."

Sard snorted and then said, "Even you should know that appearance is not what it seems. Be on your guard, and do not wander alone."

"The man would not possibly be thick enough to kill us directly under the King's nose," Balthier said, glaring at the beast. "If he wants to maintain his alias, he will certainly see that it's done _away_ from the palace. If anything were to happen to us here, it would be far too easy to suggest that perhaps there is an assassin in their midst. It would not take that long to find him."

"He's a god! He can do whatever the hell he pleases."

"No, he can't. He has limitations."

Sard did not bother to answer again, but merely matched him glare for glare until a knock on the door drew their eyes to it. "Who is it?"

"It is the maid, sire, your baths are ready."

He opened the door and for a brief moment, he noticed she was caring Sard's pack in her arms. Sard did too. He rushed over and ripped it from her hands so fast she jumped and screamed. Balthier glared at him and shook his head, but he pushed it out of his mind and gestured with his hand to the girl. "Lead the way."

Balthier could hardly believe his eyes when they had arrived. Food was wonderful, but a bath would be a luxury. Not once since he had been forced to work with Sard had he been given the opportunity to bathe, but now he could finally remove all the grit from his hair and rid his skin of the sticky sweat he had accumulated. After the door was closed he wasted no time in stripping off his torn and stained clothing, and then he stepped into the vat of hot water and allowed himself to slide underneath the surface.

_Why does bathing have to be so sparingly? _There was no reason they could take an hour out of their day to at least clean themselves properly, but Sard had labored the last two weeks under the impression that they had to get the jump on the Occuria now or they would never catch them. It took an hour of scrubbing his hair and his skin before Balthier felt clean again.

He occasionally glanced over at Sard to note that the creature wasted no time with petty luxuries like relishing in the warmth of the water. He also refused to sit in it, but instead he took a bucket and scooped water out to dump it on him. He noticed the bars of soap and he had stared incredulously when Balthier used one to scrub through his hair.

"Why are you staring? Have you never washed your fur before?"

"You have to clean yourself with this stuff?" He sniffed at it gingerly and recoiled from the slight perfume it carried.

"Gods, Sard, it's not going to kill you to use it. When was the last time you cleaned your fur?"

"Last week," Sard replied.

Balthier glanced up abruptly. "Well, so long as you're here in the palace, why don't you give your tongue a rest and just use it. It might make you more approachable and perhaps be a benefit to our cause. Selling our goal enough to give us such benefits is hardly made easier with that dark mood of yours."

"I should just morph into something more presentable like the Occurians then. That should fix the problem," Sard replied.

"Yes, it would. Along with finding the Occurians, why don't you find yourself a magical potion to melt your appearance away to reveal that you are just a fair lad underneath. My propositions will be swallowed much easier without a dose of fear to follow it. Sard, I understand you can't change yourself, but you can at least act in a respectable manner and stop treating everyone like they might be traitors in disguise."

"Was my performance this afternoon not good enough?"

Balthier found another pair of clothes on the shelf of a vanity and started to pull them on. "Yes, I was amazed. You actually acted with a hint of civility. There may be hope for you yet."

"Well, that is the best you can expect."

The Prince-consort sighed. _What in Ivalice has made him so hateful and angry? Does he enjoy smoldering every day? I guess even another living being that isn't stuffed in his manse has no possible way to strip away that brooding, _he mused. Bottling emotions was likely one of Balthier's least successful ideas, and even with as much isolation as Sard suffered for however many years he had lived, it would come full circle to bite him in the ass eventually. All he could hope was that they were no longer partners when it did, or he might find himself on the wrong end of the creature's fury.

Shoving the conversation aside, Balthier's mind turned to his incredulity at actually having a clean set of clothes to wear. Rubbing the soft fabric between his fingers he could not keep from muttering to himself, "Nearly every day I have had the luxury of wearing such fine clothes, and it has taken nearly two weeks of sleeping in my own grime to make me remember this luxury. Such a fickle thing the mind is."

Sard was not nearly so lucky in the clothes brought for him. Whether no one deigned to loan him fitting clothes or if she was truly afraid of giving him something that wouldn't fit, he was given a pullover shirt that was so long, his paws disappeared up the sleeves. The beast scowled and tore it off with such viciousness Balthier was surprised it did not actually tear apart beneath his claws.

"I will go without clothes before I wear that."

Balthier shrugged. "Well, it's not like you need clothes. You usually refuse to wear pants anyway." But he could not help feel a stab of pity for the poor creature. There were plenty of other nobles with equally poor attitudes that no one would have dared to treat with such disdain. The Rozarrian royal family had already given them so much—food, shelter, and a means to clean themselves while they recover their strength—but he might have to beseech them of properly outfitting Sard. Briefly he wondered if the noble of Rozarria held other species in an equally prejudiced attitude as the Archadians. He certainly had wondered what was so terrible about Seeqs, Bangaas or Viera that constituted such ill treatment, and now that he thought about it, he wondered if his own hateful attitude towards Sard was a similar ingrained repulsion against such a ferocious appearance.

_He did try to kill me. Five times, _he reminded himself. But that was in the past and this was now. They had been together for two weeks and Sard had yet to turn on a dime and murder him for being a nuisance. He had been operating on the orders of the Occuria when he had been chasing him, nothing more than a job and not some personal vendetta as Ba'Gamnan had.

When they had been escorted back to their room Balthier pulled out his shaving kit and decided to at least trim his beard into something he could tolerate. It had grown substantially in the last two weeks and when he stared into the mirror above the dresser, a memory of Dr. Cid forcibly entered his mind and he shuttered. He was still less bulky than his father had been, but now with the beard he could spot enough similarities that he was uncomfortable.

Just as Balthier was finishing sculpting his facial hair into a goatee, there came another knock at the door.

"That had better be our food," Sard said.

"Who is it?"

"I've come with your foods, sirs."

Sard yanked the door open and immediately wrested the tray of food from the girl who was carrying it.

"Sard, be sure to—" His throat stopped and his stomach dropped when he saw her.

It was Sari Kordano.

She looked no different from when he had seen her in Nalbina. The dusty colored trousers she was wearing hung loosely around her hips, with only a chord to keep them pooling at her ankles. She was also wearing a thick dark blue shirt which hugged her shapely frame. At the moment she kept her attention on Sard, who was sitting at a tale with the tray of food, tearing at a drumstick of Cockatrice meat. Instead of finding his behavior repulsive, her mouth was quirked in an amused grin, but when she finally turned to Balthier, there was no smile.

Sari placed her hands on her hips and stared at him for a moment. Then she finally said, "You would not believe my surprise when Al-Tamir told me you were here at the palace."

Balthier scowled. "It hasn't been a day and he's already telling our secret."

"Better for you I learned now than later. I am the Royal Violinist now. It would have been difficult to hide it from me who you really are."

Why was talking suddenly so difficult around her? His mind was struggling to come up with things to say to her. "Wh-Royal Violinist? Why? What are you doing here?"

"What else?" She spread her hands and said, "I came looking for you and Marskot. I applied at the palace for a job so that I might hear any word of you. Imagine my shock when the first thing I heard was that you were dead and Marskot was your suspected murderer."

Balthier flinched. News like that was bound to be devastating. Her husband had killed her former lover and friend? "Well, you need not worry about that anymore. I am alive as you can see." He thought Ashe would be the first to finally discover he was still alive, and then all else would fall into place with his other friends.

"Yes, now I have to worry about your wife catching Marskot and decapitating him before they also discover you're alive."

"You know I will not let that happen," Balthier replied.

She didn't reply. Was it just the light from the window or did Sari have tears in her eyes? Then she finally walked over to him and embraced him into a hug so tight he grunted at the pain on his rubs, but she did not loosen her grip. "I am so happy you're alive. After your death I wondered if I would ever be able to smile again, as silly as it sounds. The last couple of weeks have been hard."

It had been so long since Balthier had been held so intimately that he almost cringed at the touch. When he finally got over the barriers that he had long constructed from lack of contact, he also wrapped his around her and held her. It was in the middle of this hug that his stomach gave a rapacious snarl and he withdrew, groaning as he held it.

Sari chuckled and scrubbed her eyes before she said, "I thought you felt a little on the thin side. Go eat."

"Have you already eaten?"

"Yes, I still have three meals a day. It's delivered to my door everyday or I get a lecture from the palace doctor."

"I hope you saved something for me, Sard," Balthier said as he looked at all the rest on the tray. Grapes, strawberries, orbin, and a bowl of a wheat cereal called churl were scattered all over the table, but all that was left of the whole cockatrice were bones and bits of fat littering the platter. "Lovely, Sard. Thanks." The creature had already departed the scene and was back to lying on the couch. Balthier pulled the churl toward him and asked, "Now what was this about the doctor? Are you sick?"

Sari took the seat across from him, but at his question she raised her eyebrows at him, and then said, "No! I'm not sick. Don't tell me….did-did Marskot not tell you? He really didn't tell you?"

Balthier popped a grape into his mouth and shake his head. "No, he didn't tell me. What?"

"I am expecting."

The spoonful of churl he had just swallowed lodged in his throat and choked. When he finally swallowed he stared at with incredulity. "You too?!"

"What do you mean 'you too?'"

"Ashe is pregnant too."

"How long has it been?"

"A month and a half."

"Well, a little more than three months along. So Marskot and I had the idea first."

"That rat! He knew all along and he never told me. Hmmph." He sucked on half a strawberry, even as his mind was miles elsewhere. "This would explain why he refused to take you with him. I'm glad he didn't." Balthier's eyes refocused on her and then smirked. "I guess congratulations are in order. After the child's born, keep me informed on how sleeping and feeding it work out."

She tore a grape off a stem and threw it at him. "Oh, I will. I hope your wife is a heavy sleeper, so you are forced to coddle the little fellow in the dead of night."

Balthier chuckled. "I think I'm the heavier sleeper, but I imagine that will be test whenever it finally arrives. Well, congratulations on the potential squalling bundle."

"Same to you."

"It would be much appreciated if you did not mention that to anyone, okay?"

"Keep that little tidbit secret, same as your identity? As you wish, Arun."

He cocked his head and stared at her shrewdly, "Al-Tamir hardly spared you any information."

"Apparently they forgot to ask you what your name should be, so he's been spreading around Arun Rakesh. He's a little eccentric, the general, but a good man."

"Yes, but he's ruthless when it comes to prying information," Balthier said with a grim smile.

Her amusement turned to sympathy. "Did he hurt you?"

"No…just threatened to kill Sard," Balthier said, nodding in the creature's direction. "I still need him as my partner. I had no other choice."

"He is good at getting information, but I do agree he goes too far sometimes. I think the Royal Family would pull on his leash, but he has saved them from assassinations many times from the information he gets. It would be difficult if it meant compromising their own safety."

"I would like to know how he can tell who are liars and who are truthful."

Sari only shrugged.

Balthier dropped the core of the Orbin and slumped. He was not even close to being full, but his exhaustion was catching up to him and he was looking forward to a sleep on a soft mattress with chocobo down blankets. "Sari, I can't stay awake anymore."

"Well, go to bed."

"Goodnight then."

He could not believe it when his back finally sank into the mattress. Already the tension that had seized his back from sleeping on the ground was being soothed away. Just as he was dropping into sleep, he felt the mattress dip beside him and he cracked his eye open.

"Sari, what are you doing?"

"Climbing into bed, too. I'm tired of sleeping alone."

"I'm married."

"And so am I."

"Just don't let me forget."


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note:** I'm very, very sorry about this long wait. Finals got in the way.

**Chapter 20**

After a long deep sleep, waking up from it slowly was a blissful pleasure Balthier seldom enjoyed. The morning after the Rozarrian Royal Family had agreed to keep his identity a secret, he momentarily lifted his head, and then he let it fall back again. From just his brief glance, he could tell Sari and Sard had both left and the fissures of light between the drapes showed the sun was above the horizon.

He heard the door open and close, but he did not stir until he caught the scent of food. He opened his eyes to be greeted by Sard. "Get up."

Balthier sat up and asked, "What is the time?"

"Well after dawn."

The Prince-consort shook his head at Sard, but he was surprised to find the creature was holding a plate of toast. His surprise increased when Sard offered it to him. Gingerly taking one from the top of the stack, he said, "Oh, thanks. Where'd you get this?"

"I stole them. I was almost forced to skewer that fat cook to get them done."

"The chef?"

Sard waved a paw. "Whoever he is. I doubt he will get into our way now."

Balthier raised an eyebrow. "We're not here to force everyone to do our bidding. Intimidating people into acquiescence is your biggest flaw," he replied as he got out of bed and chewed on another piece of toast. "Your behavior was satisfactory, but the reason why others give you little leeway compared to other equally nasty nobles is that your appearance is considerably more vicious. After our training with wooden swords you might also look into a mirror for training your emotions."

The creature surveyed him with an arch expression but he did not say anything. He started pacing the room while Balthier continued to groom himself. Now that he had virtually nothing except the clothes on his back, he found that all he could do to better his appearance was comb his hair and brush his teeth and five minutes later he was surprised to find he was ready.

Without starvation and exhaustion plaguing his mind, he noticed that instead of sun-warmed sandstone that made up the Dalmascan Palace, the Rozarrian Palace was composed primarily of solid granite. Paintings lined the walls of all the former kings and queens, and every family that had ruled in the last one thousand years. Dalmasca had an equally impressive legacy, but the families in those paintings looked like beggars compared to Rozarria. There were even paintings of family pets: the royal chocobos, a number of wolves with emerald-faceted collars, and even a couple of cats with diamond studs in their ears.

"Monstrous, isn't it? Those creatures—they're dressed up against their will. Disgusting."

Balthier shrugged. "I imagine you think even owning such creatures is a crime. Perhaps it is, but my cat doesn't seem to mind," Balthier replied and he felt a smirk tug at his lips remembering the incessantly demanding feline. "You have entered the world of tolerance now. Pay it no mind."

They went down a flight of stairs and through an opened doorway to the grounds. Balthier turned around and found the outside of the castle was a smooth dark gray, with many figures carved above its doorway and along the edge of the roof. A grand staircase to their left had two statues on each flight of majestic gryphons with their wings flared. In contrast to Archades modernity, from what he'd seen of the capital, Rozarria much preferred to preserve their architecture and history.

Now that war was upon them hundreds of soldiers were swarming all over the ground. Some were training in groups, others were practicing alone, and he even saw a cordoned group with bulky creatures charging stuffed figures and mauling them. Sard took one look at the mess of people and snorted. Shaking his head in dismay, he headed off to an empty corner.

"I should have woken you before dawn."

"Sard, I highly doubt the grounds would have been emptier. They are heading to war now."

He ignored Balthier and started their routine. In Balthier's days as a Judge, he found they had little regard for quick and limber bodies, but would start the demanding strength exercises with little ado. Aside from killing and eating, Sard took his fitness extremely seriously and he had a talent for twisting and bending his body into shapes Balthier thought not possible. He was nowhere near as flexible as this creature, but he was surprised that with each successive day he felt looser and leaner.

When Sard felt he was fully stretched he shook out his limbs and then dropped to the ground to start the one hundred pushups. Balthier followed a few seconds behind him, deciding to take off his shirt before it got all sweaty and allowing a few moments before the exertion. Push-ups had always been one of his least favorite exercises, made more so uncomfortable when Sard bothered to kick him in the ribs to go faster.

The exercise was not unusual fare from Balthier's former military experience, but a casual glance to the other soldiers and he could see they were eliciting some stares.

Now that they were no longer walking miles on end every day, Sard insisted running, and Balthier could only agree lest he receive a cuff on the head. They ran the perimeter of the entire field without stopping until they made it back into their area. Winter was approaching in Dalmasca—as wintry as it could get in a dessert—but Rozarria was getting warmer, and Balthier was soaked in sweat. It stung his eyes and ran down his face like tears when he was gasping for breath, and he almost grimaced at the layer of sweat that had accumulated on his hands. _At least I can look forward to a bath every evening now._

Sard was suddenly back with a pair of wooden swords, and he see from their design that he had refused to haphazardly grab just any. He had purposely sought the heaviest ones he could find that would match Erinna's sword. From the way the creature was muttering and glowering more than half an hour ago, they were clearly not heavy enough. He threw Balthier's sword like a javelin and the Prince-consort was forced to snatch it from midair just in time to block a jab to his gut.

_Clack! Clack!_

The clap of wood against wood was immediately wearing on Balthier's nerves. Their real swords whispered through the air and even their most powerful strike made hardly more than a light sound of metallic scraping. Still, he tried to shake the noise and concentrate on Sard's moves. The creature's sword was little more than a blur in his paws and Balthier found that following it on a primitive basis allowed him to follow and he was holding his own. He was not sure how long he kept his stance, but Sard eventually knocked his sword aside and sent him reeling back a few paces with a solid blow to his ribs. Balthier took no notice of the pain and lunged for the sword on his far right. Sard tried to cut him off, but he reached it first and was able to roll over in time to parry his partner's sword and managed a hard blow to his neck. It was long enough to stall the creature so that he found his feet and then they were clashing swords again.

Balthier was desperately spinning Sard's sword point, directing it away from him and trying to job him in the side. Sard could see this and was struggling to control the direction. Sard won. He pushed Balthier's sword to the side and hacked down on his shoulder.

"Aggh!" The Prince-consort cringed at the deep sore in his neck, but then a hard strike to the back sent him into the grass and he lay there for a moment recovering.

Sard clicked his tongue. "You're still too slow. We have been at it for weeks now, but you can't seem to learn anything. How I ever thought you would be use to me, I couldn't say," he said.

_Easy, he is just trying to provoke you, _Balthier thought to himself. He quelled the rage but not the resolve to see Sard down on the ground with him, and before he could give it another thought he pushed himself back onto his feet and lunged for Sard. The creature had been expecting it but Balthier quickly wrenched his sword arm, hitting it so hard his numb claws dropped the sword and he heard the creature groan with pain.

Balthier follow the same moves and shoved Sard face first into the ground. He stopped to allow the creature to recover, but then Sard lunged. It was so quick Balther only saw fur and sharp teeth. He snapped his arms up in defense, but he felt a sharp pain in his cheek and then he staggered back clutching his face. He could feel the skin was shredded beneath his fingers in three distinct claw marks, and it made an ugly squishing sound when he pressed his hand against it to staunch the bleeding.

"Gods damn it." Sard was standing a few feet away gazing at his bloody claws and shook his head. It was hard to discern what was beneath his ever present glare but then he stepped over to Balthier.

The Prince-consort snatched up the sword and swung it with all the strength he could manage. Sard recoiled, but he made the hit straight across his face. The creature grabbed his sword arm and then the other when he tried to follow with a punch. They both glared into the others eyes, each of them straining to overcome the other. Blood ran down Balthier's wrist as Sard dug in his claws, but he barely felt it. Sard began to bend as Balthier's anger continued to swell and he pushed. Then he pulled his leg forward and gave him a solid kick in the stomach that tore his claws from his wrist.

Sard sat on the ground and Balthier stood still, taking a moment to reign his emotions under fierce control. He looked up and he could see that most of the soldiers had stopped their training and gaped in horrified fascination. Balthier subconsciously touch his face and then he looked down at the hand to find it covered completely in blood. Putting his hand back up to nestle his cheek, he dropped the sword and headed back for the castle. He was surprised when Sard made no protest, but gathered their swords and Balthier's shirt.

Balthier was hoping to meet no one of any importance on the way back, but luck had already decided to have the day to itself. General Al-Tamir was heading toward the training grounds, talking with someone Balthier assumed was a lieutenant of some sort. Al-Tamir glanced up briefly, and then he did a double take as Balthier tried to slip by.

"Good gods, Rakesh. What happened to you?'

"Nothing, nothing. It was an accident," Balthier muttered and waved his other hand in dismissal.

"Let me look at that," Al-Tamir said and he pulled the hand away and tilted his head. After nearly a minute of inspection, he clicked his tongue. "Claw marks. I would wager my estate that the creature Sard did this. Why do you stand by him? He'll stab your back before he guards it."

Balthier glared at him. "If I've said it once, I've said it a dozen times: I need him! If he can do this to me in training, imagine what he does to his enemies." He saw the pair of them shudder. "Have a good day, General."

He met no one else on the way back to the room and was also glad to see Sari had not returned. He snatched up a towel in the room then headed for the bathroom. Even he was surprised by his appearance at first glance in the mirror. The skin around the wound was shredded as he thought, and white tissue shined through the jagged edges of the skin. Even as he looked fresh blood seeped through and started running down his jaw-line. He almost forgot he had no shirt on and he could see that the blood had run down his neck before it dried on his left shoulder. _No wonder I was stopped in the hall._

Balthier was jolted from peering at himself when the door suddenly closed and Sair was staring at him with her mouth ajar.

"Stop that. It's an appearance unbecoming of you," Balthier said before he closed his eyes to chant the healing spell.

Sari deposited the sack she was carrying and walked over. "What in the gods' names happened to you?" Even as she said it the gashes were shrinking until they became smooth, flawless skin yet again, leaving only the blood stains.

"Sard and I were training. It was a little more exuberant than usual," he replied. He soaked the towel but even as he started wiping up the blood she pulled it from his grasp and began wiping his face herself.

"That's probably why no one can find him."

"What?" Balthier had been lost in his thoughts, but he pulled himself back. "Sard's hiding?"

"I would assume so."

He walked back into the room and found all of Sard's paraphernalia still next to the couch where he was sleeping. He shook his head. "Sard's not hiding. He can't be. That's not his way."

Sari stopped wiping his face and cocked her head. "How can you be sure?"

Balthier smirked. "I have been living with him the past two weeks. He chased me to the limits of my strength even before that. Whatever Sard is, he most certainly is not shameful."

"I had a nice conversation with Sard this morning. He does not seem all that bad of a character wants you get past the long teeth and the fur. I don't think you gave him a fair chance."

"Would you? He tried to kill me five times," Balthier said and shook his head. "We're both sentimental, but even I am not as soft-hearted as you. Consider yourself fortunate you can be so forgiving. It would find any other person as a corpse."

"Balthier, we both know that was a paid job. From the way he spoke, he could care less whether you died or not. You are not his responsibility. His focus is solely on these Occuria things, whatever they are," Sari said, having finally turned away and was taking items out of the sack. She tossed a bundle to him and he caught it. "Three pairs of clothes for you."

"Thank you very much. I'll pay you back once this whole affair is settled." Balthier pulled a light, long sleeve shirt dyed in deep red over his head and smoothed it out. Now that training was over, there was little else to preoccupy his mind and he walked past Sari to lie on the bed, staring at the blinds covering the windows.

"Balthier?" He had refused to look her in the eye which piqued her interest. "Balthier! What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Feeling a little fatigued is all," he replied. It was truthful enough. He was tired. He was tired of this gambit, of the aches and pains, of sleeping outside, of willing himself to continue living day after day with a creature like Sard. He had reached his limit of this adventure the moment he died and he wished to be back in the Dalmascan palace, flirting with Ashelia, and continuing all the boring duties he had initially abhorred. He never thought he would tire of adventure, but even pirating had never quite gotten his strenuous and he at least had been allowed to travel with people he remotely cared for.

The silence stretched between them for several minutes, not entirely uncomfortable, then he felt the bed dip beside him and her arms slid around him, pulling herself closer. "Balthier, I know you well enough to know that is not all that is bothering you."

Balthier shifted, slightly uncomfortable with the proximity of her warm body pressed against his. This was contact he had been forced to go without for more than a month now and his body quivered. He grabbed one of her hands and squeezed it gently. Another few minutes of silence filled the room and then he finally said, "I fear I'm losing myself."

"What do you mean?"

"I attacked Sard."

If he could see her face, he knew she would have a puzzled frown on it. "I would think that perfectly natural. A reaction."

"My reactions are never normally violent. You remember when I was a Judge. I loathed it. It forced me into war. I have only ever attacked if my life was seriously threatened, but today? We were training! Sard is not a completely mindless killing machine and he was surprised when he realized what he did. He did not follow through, but I attacked him." He stopped there.

"Balthier, listen to me," she whispered into his ear. "I cannot even fathom what you have been through the last couple of months. To say they have been difficult would be an understatement. You are suffering. I saw it when you slept. Sard is suffering, too. So far I would say you are not worse for the wear. You are enduring it and you will continue to do so as long as you have hope."

He virtually knew this conversation by heart. She had delivered almost the exact same pep talk to him when he had still been a Judge. He'd had no hope back then and had run away, and the only decent thing to arise from that was meeting Fran and Ashe. Here? Balthier almost wished he could go back in time to his simpler worries of whether he could mentally make it through the next day of training. Here, he had good reason to believe he might not be alive by the end of the week. The stakes were considerably higher than when he was a teenager. He chuckled bitterly at how trivial his worries as a teenager appeared to him now. Pathetic.

Balthier felt her arms tighten around his ribs briefly and he allowed himself to revel in the closeness for a couple of moments, then he started gently prying her limbs away. "I would like to bathe. And I would hate to think what my wife would say if she saw us now."

"You want me to go away?" Sari asked.

"No. I want you to stay on your side of the bed."

Ashelia hated to admit it to herself, but every day that she lived without Balthier was that much easier. His presence still hung over like a dark rain cloud and the days were still never as bright as they used to be, but she found that burying herself in work was a decent coping mechanism to help keep her mind from dwelling on him. At the moment, she was penning a letter to the king of a tiny little nation, Javan, just north of Balfonheim in hopes she might be able to quell his aggressive campaign. He was attempting to crowd the nation of Cercia by swiping the land from its grasp.

She, Larsa, the Marquis Ondore, and a number of others were all writing letters pleading to end the violence and come to the negotiation table. They had already attempted to blockade all trade routes to Javan but it appeared to have no effect on the King Halsin's level of aggression and now they were lining up next to Cercia in hopes that sheer number might make the King back down. She had a feeling the idea would be considerably more potent if Rozarria also joined but they were still waiting to hear word on them.

When the letters started blurring in front of her face, Ashelia leaned back in the chair and rubbed her sore neck and blinked slowly for a moment. She had known precisely what she was going to say once the situation had come to light and she had tackled it with a passion she had not felt since she first regained her throne. She had two sheets of paper covered from top to bottom in her eloquent writing style and though her whole body ached for being hunched over for an entire hour as she wrote it out, she allowed herself a satisfied smile.

_It was worth the pain. Another concern I can now dismiss, _Ashe mused satisfactorily to herself. She would get hell for doing it. She was on strict orders not to stress her body or her mind too much with the onset of the pregnancy, but she refused to dictate someone else to write her letters.

Ashe stood from the ornate oaken chair and continued to rub her neck with a mind to take a walk in the garden. Since the council suggested she announce her pregnancy, she found Geoffrey, Fran, and Penelo had been lingering around her more often, and she wondered if this was at the council's suggestion or if they were there to simply keep her company. As much as she appreciated their friendship their concern was starting to borderline on overbearing and at the moment she needed some time alone.

A smile graced her lips when a stone window of the garden came into view, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows over the beautiful sandstone of her palace. This was not a garden available to view in the public and she gladly stepped onto the white pebbled sidewalk and breathed in the fresh air. The windows were kept open year round to let the air waft through but even then her chambers remained stuffy. An iridescent blue butterfly caught her eye as it fluttered around a particularly large yellow blossom, and she willed her mind to empty and focused only on it. The butterfly continued to flitter around the garden as though it knew it was being watched, before it finally took to the skies and flew out of her sight.

_I should visit Vaan after this,_ she mused and sighed regretfully. Ashe had only been able to see him twice, and each time she stepped into his room she was appalled at his condition. His bronze skin was still a dead pale, but his eyes were open and bright. Vaan was speaking and laughing and smiling, but it always seemed to be at the cost of great energy. Even after five minutes she would see his eyes drooping with exhaustion and so she would leave to allow him to recover.

He was going to be there for a while and the thought made her think back to what the council said. They were right; Penelo and Fran would be around for some time. Perhaps it was not entirely out of the question to announce her pregnancy, especially while they were here to protect her. It did not surprise her at all that whispers were reaching her ears from contacts within the city that people were already discussing the possibility of Ashe remarrying to provide an heir. Worry was starting to fester in the corners of Rabanastre as though they were concerned of Dalmasca falling into the wrong hands again. As much as it pained her for her citizens to worry, she would have to stomach it for now. Only a handful of people still know of her pregnancy, and the council was warned that if any information of her pregnancy was leaked they could very well be thrown in jail since it could now be considered an issue of national security. She would keep it secret for now.

"Good afternoon, your Queen Majesty Ashelia Bunansa," Al-Cid Margrace said, breaking into her thoughts.

Ashe gratefully came out of her reverie, having become exasperated at thinking of this problem over and over. Al-Cid could grate her nerves, but lately he had had the good grace of leaving her be and every time they had crossed in the halls he had explicitly monitored his language and made no insinuations of having a love affair with her. She nodded at him and scooted over on the bench. His greeting was neutral enough but she could hear an underlying strain in his voice and when she smiled up at him there was no hiding the exhaustion in his eyes.

"If I am allowed to call you Al-Cid, then I insist that you call me Ashe. 'Tis only fair. How are you?"

Al-Cid chuckled at what she said, sat down beside her, and then replied, "As well as can be, considering the news. I am afraid it will not be agreeable for either of us."

It was then that Ashe saw he was holding a piece of paper loosely in his fingers and his head was bowed in defeat. She narrowed her eyes in question and then held out the piece of paper to her. She gently took it and looked down. The handwriting was unbelievably ornate and curly and she found she had a difficult time deciphering the letters, but after a few minutes she reached the end of the message and felt her stomach plummet.

_The Lord Son Al-Cid Margrace_

_The Kingdom of Vance continues to encroach upon our beautiful land of Rozarria and now that they have started to amass a large force in the city of Dubar, we feel there is little other choice than to meet their strength with our own. Rozarria shall declare war on Vance within the week._

_The Lord King Russell Margrace XVI_

The letter fell out of her fingers and gently floated to the ground. Ashe appeared up at Al-Cid and said, "We must stop them! There has to be another way to prevent Vance from starting a war. If Rozarria shall enter war then our bid to stop King Halsin of Javan will be in vain! Halsin will merely point out our hypocrisy on leaving Rozarria and Vance alone. We must contact them together."

"Ashelia, I have already tried. I have insisted on going back, but the pilot for my personal transport is on strict orders to not allow me to go back and make my father see. We must do it from a distance, but it will be difficult. Any message we send now will likely not reach them in time to prevent a war. I imagine General Al-Tamir is behind this act of aggression. He was the one who encouraged the Resistance to battle with Vayne. I fear there is little hope of preventing this."

"There is always hope! Let us remember that they have commanded your pilot not to take you back. They have not stopped mine. I will see my ship is ready within the next hour. Be sure you are ready."

With that she turned on her heel and swept out the door, intent on commanding the royal pilot to ready a ship for Rozarria.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Balthier awoke with a start. A noise at the door caught his ear, he could see movement within the room, and then quite suddenly General Al-Tamir was standing over him.

"Good, you're awake," he whispered, his eyes darting to the unmoving body next to him.

"What time is it?" Balthier asked in a husky voice, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes.

"0300 hours. C'mon. Get up. All of our forces are leaving in two hours."

"What? I thought we weren't moving out until the end of the week? What's happened?" Balthier raised his eyebrows in surprise when anger suddenly creased the General's face, and he could see a muscle working in his jaw.

With a great sigh as though to expel his built up anger, Al-Tamir said, "The 4th brigade I sent down to guard the border was lost. They are dead, and a village has burned for it. We have decided we must step up our retaliation. Also, as far as we can tell, they sustained no losses."

"How?" A whisper from behind caused them both to turn and they could now see Sard on his feet, putting on the new jacket that Sari had bought him and pulling his pack on.

"We have no idea. All communications have ceased down there. We will find out when we meet them. Now hurry up, you two," Al-Tamir replied and started heading out the door. Then something dawned on him and he turned. "Oh, Balthier, your wife is on her way."

Balthier jumped out of the bed like it had suddenly turned into hot coals. "Oh shit! Do you have an idea why?"

"To stop this war, of course. Your secret remains safe, but it won't if she arrives and finds you here. It would be much harder to hide you then."

"Yes, let's go," Balthier said and he scrambled to throw on his clothes and grab his own pack.

"Heading to war?"

They all turned to see Sari still lying in bed, but her eyes were open. Al-Tamir left but Balthier stayed rooted to the ground as he struggled to find something to say. "Uhh…well, yes, it was a part of our deal with King Russell. We promised to fight in this war."

She crawled out of bed and walked over, wrapping her arms around him in a gentle hug. "Be careful. You were right to keep your wife safe, but if I hear you have died now I will be equally devastated. Look after each other."

Balthier hugged her back. "I will. I suppose I can trust you not to blow my cover if you should encounter Ashe?"

"Of course I won't, but she's going to get an earful about hunting down Marskot," Sari said when she stepped back within arm's length. There was a moody scowl on her face.

"Try not to be too confrontational. I seriously doubt two pregnant women brawling would be very good for their respective babies," Balthier said with a classic smirk on his face, and he was pleased to get a smile out of her.

"I will try to keep it civil, and I know she has good reason for wanting to behead him but that will not keep me from trying," she replied.

He opened his mouth to say more, but it was only going to be a repeat of what he already warned her of. So he simply nodded and started leaving the room.

"Goodbye, Sard."

"Goodbye, Sari." Balthier stopped so abruptly Sard ran into him. "What the hell is your problem? Keep moving!" But the Prince-consort could only stare at him, suspicion narrowing his eyes.

_Goodbye? He actually said 'goodbye.' That is not like Sard at all. _He turned to look back into the room, but Sari had already closed the door and undoubtedly returned to bed. So he sighed and continued following the strange creature down the hall until they were out onto the grounds. Although the sun wasn't up the place was alive and alighted, moving and buzzing like a hive of bees working in tandem to one common goal. The light blue hulking creatures that were attacking stuffed figures the day before were all mingling in one group with the soldier they were tied to. They were nowhere near as intimidating without their armor, but much like Sard they had four sets of deadly claws and long incisors to more than make up for their current lack of bulk.

"They have their weapons," Sard suddenly said. It was true. Every soldier in the area had a knife sheathed at their side and a sword on their back or also at their side, but it was impossible to see where they might be getting them. Balthier put a hand on Sard's shoulder and tried to lift himself above the crowd but even then he could not see where they were.

"Arun Rakesh!"

They whipped their heads around to the source of the noise and slowly started pushing their way toward it. "Arun Rakesh!" Balthier heard Sard start to growl when the soldiers did not give way, and he reached out and grabbed one of his paws to keep him from gutting anyone who did not move fast enough. They finally broke through just as the same man was screaming his alias again. "Arun Rakesh!"

"I am here," Balthier said. As soon as they were clear of the crowd, Sard violently shook his paw out of his hand.

"I am Captain Garcin. Follow me, you are to accompany General Al-Tamir on his flagship," he said. "There is an armory on board and you will receive your weapons there."

Balthier allowed himself to sigh in relief. He had been just anxious about keeping their weapons on them as Sard, because he knew they were prone to getting purloined by other soldiers or even leaders after they were confiscated.

Sard appeared to be thinking on the same wavelength and he poked a claw into the man's chest and said, "The weapons you give us had better be the same ones you took from us, or so help me I'll castrate both you and the General with a rusty blade."

The Prince-consort hung his head and sighed. It seemed that whenever he made a stride in diplomacy, Sard was always there to drag him back another two paces. "Sard, you will do no such thing," he said and he wrenched the creature's paw away from the captain. Then he fixed the man with an icy stare. "But he is right. We need _our_ weapons back, and we will not settle for less than what we were caught with."

"I have been promised by the General himself that they indeed are your weapons. He has been keeping them stored in his chambers under lock and key. Your…._friend_ has already reminded him how important they are. Stay here for now," Garcin said and then he turned on his heel and headed up the steps that formed a dais on the back of the palace.

"Rakesh, Sard, follow me."

They turned to find General Al-Tamir himself standing not ten feet away from them. With a swirl of his cape he turned on his heel and started walking along the edge of the crowd. Quite suddenly the soldiers formed into ranks and then saluted the General as he walked past. Balthier felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle and immediately stepped up his pace to hide his face behind Sard. He was taking no chances.

At least three ships were landed just outside the walls of the Rozarrian palace, and he could see at least three more hovered nearby, for more soldiers to file on board. General Al-Tamir swept aboard and started walking the main hallway. They were halfway to the bridge when the General suddenly stopped at one door and punched in a code at the keypad before it unlocked with a light 'click.' He stepped back and waved them on through.

"Since you were so eager to receive your weapons, I felt you might appreciate being the first to see the armory," Al-Tamir said.

Balthier whistled as soon as he entered the room. Ten rows of shelves were spaced within the sizeable room and they contained what seemed like every weapon in existence. The first four shelves were filled solely with hundreds of swords and daggers to outfit the better part of the army. The next three rows were filled with guns, crossbows, and bows, and then there was another half a row dedicated to ammo. The remaining rows were filled with armor, shields, chain mail, helmets, and gauntlets.

Sard remained aloof at the abundance of weapons and turned to Al-Tamir as soon as he looked over the room. "Where are _our_ weapons?"

"If you will allow me, I shall leave now to get them. I have already taken them to my quarters on the ship," he replied with a slight bow of his head and was off to appease the beast.

Balthier did not even watch him go and immediately headed over to the ammo, shifting through it for his preferred bags of shot and then he started immediately browsing the armor. The breastplates and other metal coverings made him think too much of his days as a Judge, and he never intended to wear a suit of armor even if it would save his life. Instead he moved to the chainmail and began looking for the appropriate size. It was thrown over his shoulder in minutes, and as he was walking back out of the aisles he looked over and saw the helmets on the other side and he stopped.

Helmets were also a little to reminiscent of his Judging days and he was loathe to wear one again, but not only might it be worth the memories but he would more easily be able to hide his face from any curious eye. Swallowing the edgy feeling that rose in his chest, he rounded the corner at the end of the aisle to find something that could hide his eyes.

Balthier came out from the rows just as Al-Tamir entered with another person bearing their weapons. "You two have quite a collection," he replied as he carefully set them down on a small table within the room. Sard suddenly emerged from the ranged weapons aisle with a crossbow and a case of bolts in hand and he set them on the table as well, and then began digging through their personal pile. He eventually unearths his Antares and holds it in his paws for a moment, admiring its custom design and the smooth wood.

"I'll trade you this for that crossbow," he said mildly, holding the handle out to the General.

Al-Tamir cocked his head in curiosity and took the weapon from Sard's hands, examining it from every angle. After a moment of silence he says, "This is not worth the cost of that crossbow. I will keep it for safekeeping, but you are the rightful owner."

"Whatever you wish," Sard said with a shrug of his shoulders, and he immediately turns his attention back to his weapons and starts putting his arsenal back together.

While the exchange was going on, Balthier had already grabbed his weapons, holstering his gun and slinging his sword around his back, and then strapped the knife to his side, and put the pouches of shot into pocket in a pouch on his belt. He turns to Sard and asks, "Why the crossbow?"

"Because I will need something that loads quickly. Beautiful and accurate as I am with my Antares, in a battle it's woefully inadequate. A crossbow will be better," he replies neutrally.

Balthier just shook his head. _He thinks of everything that might help gain him the upper hand in a fight. I suppose he even considers what direction the wind blows, too._ "Are you going to get any armor?"

"No. I should have no difficulty surviving this. Wars are full of amateur fighters that merely think they're formidable."

Balthier narrowed his eyes. "This is not about quality, this is about quantity. If there are enough, they could overwhelm you. At least wear it as a precaution!"

Sard turned and gazed at him with a steady glare, but then Al-Tamir cleared his throat and said, "At least humor the both of us. If you insist that only you and him can defeat these Occuria, then perhaps you should wear it if only to ensure you are still breathing when this finishes."

"Fine," Sard replied with a hiss on his voice, and then he turned and headed toward the armor. He returned with his own chain mail slung over his arm and said with a growl in his throat, "Now let's get out of here before the other soldiers crowd the area."

Already the quiet halls of the ship had given away to the low chatter of hundreds of footsteps moving in their direction. Sard and Balthier hurriedly walked down the corridors of the ship, each having different reasons for wanting to avoid the large crowd. Al-Tamir stopped in front of another door that was just outside the bridge and he waved them inside again.

"You will be bunking here until we reach Furlough, where the Rozarrian army is amassing. My most trusted commanders are here as well, and for the record they do not know your true identity," Al-Tamir said, looking directly at Balthier when he said this and the Prince-consort nodded. "Be extra careful and consider yourself lucky. The other soldiers have to bunk in rooms with ten people in each. This has only six and they should be with me most of the time. Get some rest." Then he was back out the door.

Sard snorted. "Consider ourselves lucky?"

"What were you expecting? Royal treatment? At least it will be quiet," Balthier said as he set his items down near the far bunk.

"I suppose I am going to get stuck on top."

Balthier ignored him and merely lay down on his bed. It was not necessarily comfortable sleeping in mail and boots, but he knew that in only a few hours time he would be rushing to put it back on. He decided to save himself a couple of minutes and closed his eyes. Already he was feeling the acute loneliness that had faded with Sari's presence. Since marrying a bed without anyone was starting to become a decidedly emptier one, even when it was a cot he could barely fit on himself.

The rest of the night passed in what seemed like an eye blink. One moment Balthier was closing his eyes to sleep, and it seemed in the next moment he was opening them to Sard's shaking. "We're here, now get up!" Balthier was under the impression by his bristling reply that sleep had not come as easily to him.

"What's the time?" The Prince-consort asked even as he rolled out of bed, and almost regretted the quick movement when his back retained the flexibility of a wooden plank.

"0830. The General estimates the battle will start in four hours," Sard replied, finishing the sentence with a wide yawn. "I wonder if there is any food to be had here. He conveniently forgot to mention it to us before we left."

Balthier felt his own stomach snarl and his disappointment drop. In his panic and excitement to leave the palace, he had completely forgotten about swinging by the kitchen for rations. "We'll figure something out. There is bound to be food around here somewhere with as many soldiers that have gathered. We can avoid the rush to the armory and look for those rations."

Unwilling to leave any of their new equipment at the mercy of any other soldiers, they strapped on everything and trekked out of their quarters. The best descriptive word Balthier could use for the scene was mayhem. Soldiers were dashing here and there in the hallways, strapping on their swords or pulling on their helmets. The light blue creatures they had seen on the grounds snarled at them when they almost tripped onto them when a soldier brushed past them. It amused Balthier when Sard snarled back, and the animal appeared to give them a look of exasperation in turn before the soldier holding its leash pulled it away.

"Honestly, do you also have to incite the animals into violence as well?" Balthier muttered to him, but he could not keep the smirk from his face. "You would have done the same in his position."

"And I'm sure he would have also snarled. Your point is?"

"Never mind."

It took all of five minutes to realize that there was no food to be had on the ship, and so they made their way outside of it, and found the grounds surrounding the ship in even greater chaos. Balthier could not help but gape. "Is this the _entire_ Rozarrian army?"

"Perhaps," Sard said, nonplussed at the energy and noise they were in.

"Why?"

"Remember this morning? While you were scrambling to get your clothes on, the General mentioned an entire brigade was destroyed, with apparently no damage to the opposing side. That might warrant the General to call all of his forces up in arms. Certainly sounds suspicious. Perhaps they have a weapon?"

"Oh yes, now I remember," Balthier replied and then he gave Sard a knowing glance. "You suspect the Occuria."

"Who else could possibly be behind that kind of power?"

Balthier's stomach suddenly fell like a stone and he was glad they had started moving again, so that Sard could not see the subtle shaking of his arms. _Could it be? Did the Occuria create more Nethicite and hand it to Vance? _That was all he could think of that would level an entire brigade to the ground in one fell stroke. If that was, in fact the case, he couldn't see how the Rozarrian army could have much of a chance against that kind of power. He sincerely hoped the Nethicite remained struck from the world.

It was another forty minutes before they were able to find food in a nearby town and wait in the immense lines with the other soldiers. They pointedly refrained from talking to each other as their bad moods deepened into volatile storms they were barely able to keep at bay. Balthier sighed at his reaction to near uncontrollable bristling at all the soldiers surrounding them and brushing past them. Aside from his stint as a sky pirate, he had lived in crowded cities all of his life, but now that he and Sard had been fending alone he found the company—particularly this much company—of others was beginning to fray his temper and weaken the walls piled against the emotion that made him want to lash out.

The thought made him go back to what he had said to Sari the night before: _"I fear I'm losing myself." _That was not what he had meant to say to her, but he felt he could not bring himself to voice those particular thoughts. Every day that Balthier spent with Sard, he felt all the feelings that made him who he was siphoning away and being replaced by whatever material composed Sard.

_I still have Sari, _he thought. He felt ill thinking of her instead of his own wife, but as he was the only one he would even consider touching at the moment, she was all he had to hang onto. Even as he felt his humanity continually slipping away from him, he closed his eyes and allowed his thoughts to focus on her and soothe his rising temper.

When Balthier eventually emerged with a baguette and half a sandwich, he forced them down his throat, not entirely sure he could stomach it anymore. Standing in line had given his mind far too much free time, and the looming battle was starting to make his insides churn like a maddened sea in a gale.

He did not bother voicing his nerves as Sard devoured his own sandwich. He knew the response he would get from the emotionally stunted creature, and no amount of speculation could lay the future out in front of him as clear as day. There were only two apparent choices: leave alive and the victor, or die among the masses.

In the time when he was traveling with Ashe under the guise of a roguish pirate, there wasn't a single battle he encountered when he actually wondered whether he would survive the outcome of the fight. He had maintained a smug confidence that he would always see the next day, even the day they ran off to fight Vayne on the _Bahamut_.

But that was the end. They were seeing the end to a long, hard pull that had occupied his plate for four months. This battle was for no purpose than to fill a favor. It had nothing in it that Balthier really cared for, and somehow that made it seem even more likely that he might not live to the end of it.

_Stop thinking, Balthier. Stop over-analyzing. You will see the end of this, especially with a fighter like Sard at your side. We can make it through, and then we can plan the next move we make, _he thought. He gave the rest of his baguette to the creature and watched him tear into it like it is a hunk of meat. "Are you done? Do you think the General has a specific place he would like us to take part in the battle?"

Sard swallowed a large chunk of the bread and said, "I hope it's on the front lines. I could use a break from the large creatures, and kill some damn amateurs. Not as challenging as I like, but a vacation from what we've been doing."

Balthier grimaced. "Let's find the General then."

They were surprised to find him in his quarters surrounded by no less than a dozen people, only three of them women as he mapped out the strategies for the battle.

"Captain Grissam, Captain Hurace, you will hold your troops at the back line as reserves should we need you. Ah, Rakesh, Sard, I'm glad you could join us. You're to be a part of Captain Amilain's company. You'll both be riding cerosis."

Balthier nodded at the older woman who must have been Captain Amilain. _What are Cerosis? I've never heard of such a strange creature._

"You have any questions?"

Balthier hesitated. There were plenty of questions he wanted answers to, yet he doubted Al-Tamir knew half of what he wanted to know. He screwed up his face as he thought, then he finally asked, "How large is the Vanitian force?"

"Estimates are coming in that it's about five thousand," he replied.

"_Five thousand?_ You have at least twelve thousand troops here," Balthier replied.

"Fifteen thousand, actually. Vance also obliterated an entire brigade without any losses. I'm not taking any chances."

"How are you so sure they didn't lose any people?" Sard asked with his head cocked to the side.

"I can't be sure. We lost all contact with our forces at the border, which implies they also killed my scouts, and there seems to be little change with the strength of their force. We would find at least a hundred bodies, but so far there haven't been reports of any such thing. I have suspended all scouting activity when another two never returned," Al-Tamir replied.

"So you're merely assuming. Now it all makes sense," Sard said with an overconfident smirk.

Al-Tamir gave him a tight smile that did not reach his eyes and then said, "You all know what to do. Dismissed!"

When the rest of the captains went their separate ways and Amilain walked ahead of them a few paces, Balthier leaned in and whispered, "So now you think this is merely a fool's errand for Rozarria to strut their power."

"No," Sard said, "Well…it might be, but I sincerely doubt it. His intelligence may not be accurate but I imagine something strange is going on."

"Strange? You really think it is the Occuria?"

"Do you think there's any coincidence that I can sense two of them down here?" Sard asked.

"They're behind Vance's might?"

"I would not put it past them. Stick with me through the battle."

"Rakesh, this will be your cerose," Amilain suddenly said, jolting the pair of them from their conversation and Balthier blinked at the creature.

It had four spindly legs supporting a surprisingly bulky body, and he briefly recalled that the out-line of the animal reminded him dearly of the bony, black creatures on the Ozmone Plain. But instead of bony plates, this creature had smooth dark brown fur and it eyed him with an arch expression, its large nostrils flaring as though it were about to attack him.

He looked at Amilain and asked, "Why can't I ride a chocobo? I'm much more familiar with them."

"The General suggested a cerose because he thought that your partner was also to ride with you."

"Of course I am," Sard said and Balthier shot him an exasperated expression. "I told you to stay with me through the battle. It'll be much harder to keep track of you if we each have mounts of our own. Besides, I've never ridden another creature in my life."

"But why can't we ride a chocobo?"

"With all the armor you are carrying, a chocobo would not be able to stand up to the weight. No, you'll have to ride a cerose."

"But there are going to be singular soldiers. We could be among th—"

"Stop arguing and get on the gods damned cerose," Sard suddenly snapped and Balthier sighed before he put a foot in the stirrup and hoisted himself up.

"The battle will start in forty minutes. Get into position," Amilain said and then she left.

* * *

The Queen Ashelia could not keep the surprise from her face when she and Al-Cid arrived at the palace, standing outside the door, and listened to a violinist give the royal family a private concert. _Do they have no sense of decency? This is hardly a time for indulging in fanciful luxuries, _she thought to herself, but she had to push it away. Every royal family dealt with a crisis like the threat of oncoming war differently, and perhaps this was merely their retreat to keep from dwelling on it.

Two servants standing outside the door clearly recognized the Prince Al-Cid and they opened the great hall's immense doors as quickly as they could.

King Russell stood up as soon as they entered, but the violinist continued to play. Ashe could tell the performance was winding down when she held a long whole note, and allowed the vibrato of the string carry through the Great Hall before she pulled her violin down. Then she turned and bowed at the approaching queen.

Ashe could not keep the surprise from her face at the sight of Sari standing with the violin in the crux of her arm, bowing to her. There was no surprise on her face, but she was greeted with a soft smile. A small wave of admiration swept through the queen at the kind dark brown eyes, the long black hanging straight down her back, and the simple, beautiful black dress that hugged her curves. Only someone as beautiful as Sari could get away with such a simple outfit and still fit among the nobles.

"Al-Cid, it is so wonderful to see you again. Now that you're away so oft—"

"Father, let's get straight to the point. The Queen Ashelia and I have contention with your decision to head to war against Vance. Did General Al-Tamir force this suggestion into your head? If there are other reasons we would be pleased to hear them, but you must stop amassing your forces before negotiation can take place," Al-Cid said, his dark eyebrows furrowed with anger.

"Be sure you remind Vance of the same thing," the king replied, his eyes also flashing. "Do not think we came to this decision lightly?"

"_Lightly_? Father, you were starting to rally your forces when they had not so much as sneez—"

"We set an entire brigade at the border, and now it and one town have been completely destroyed. We dare not call the army back now. We must protect our citizens. The battle is to start in four hours," King Russell said, his face the very picture of solemnity. "I am sorry that you have flown down here for nothing, your Majesty Ashelia Bunansa, and it would honor us if you would stay the night here and recover your strength."

Ashe bowed her head and said, "Thank you very much, but I should be heading back for Dalmasca. I understand the reasons behind your defensive and I wish you well in your endeavor." It nearly made her sick to her stomach to say it but she could not very well convince them otherwise now that Vance had shown themselves to be a fearless aggressor. As much as it pained her, she knew she would have done the same under similar circumstances.

"Your highness, it would relieve me if you would take our offer of hospitality. I apologize for forcing this issue upon you, and I feel wholly responsible for making you come down here. Please stay," Al-Cid said. He had spent most of the night fretting over the situation on her ship and she could see now that he appeared utterly defeated. Despite not being able to stop the war, she smiled a little at the thought that she would always have a friend for peace in Al-Cid Margrace.

"Very well. I will stay for the night," she replied and curtsied in front of the royal family. "I thank you for your hospitality."

The king clapped his hands and a servant suddenly appeared from a little door on the side. "Escort our guest to the loveliest room within the palace and draw a bath for her. I am sure she is tired from her long journey."

The servant bowed and Ashe started to follow. She turned back when she heard a noise behind her and saw the Queen Bela sweep down from her throne and walk over to embrace Al-Cid. "Oh, Al-Cid, it is so rare that we see you anymore. Please come back to us more than once or twice a year, son. I have missed you so."

"Yes, mother. I have missed you as well," Al-Cid said, returning the embrace.

Ashe could not help the smile that crossed her face.

It was after her bath that she heard a knock on her door. Figuring it was Al-Cid again, she did not bother asking who it was and was then surprised when she found Sari on her doorstep.

"Your Majesty," Sari said, with an inclination of her head.

"Please, Sari. It's Ashe."

"Ashe…I imagine you already have an idea of why I have come by to speak with you," she replied when Ashe opened the door wider to let her in.

She drew her mouth into a grim line and nodded. "Marskot."

"Yes, I have disagreement with the bounty you have set out for him," Sari said and then looked her in the eye. "You and I both know that he would never harm Balthier."

"I have a witness saying he _saw_ Marskot stab Balthier in the side, and now Balthier is dead," Ashe replied, her voice rising with the emotion. "I know you're distraught over your husband committing such an act, but nothing can alter what he did. I too no longer have a husband because of him."

"The proof is on your side, but we both know that Marskot would never hurt Balthier," Sari repeated.

"Are you suggesting that someone who looks precisely like Marskot jammed a knife into my husband's side?" Ashe could not keep the laugh from her throat. After two weeks of attempting to distance herself from her husband's death, all the emotions came boiling back up as if they had been biding their time there all along.

"I don't know. I just know that something strange is going on here, and maybe there's a deeper issue to this than what you see at face value," Sari said. Ashe nearly flinched at the look on her face. Her dark brown eyes, always so kind, were sparking with anger and she appeared about ready to lash out at the queen, but then she could also see a mournful sorrow that was tearing her apart. She opened her mouth to say something, but then she closed it shut with a snap and appeared to rethink the words that had been close to spilling out of her mouth. Finally she drew in a shuddering breath and continued, "I-I am truly sorry for you loss. I loved Balthier, too. I am sorry for making the wound bleed again. Have a lovely day your Highness."


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: **Happy New Years!

**Chapter 22**

_Did they purposely give me a difficult animal to control? _Balthier's nervousness disappeared as he tried to move the cerose that was currently walking in circles. He could hear the low rumble of Sard's chuckles as he pulled at the reigns of the animal, nudging its head toward the stall door and finally managing to exit the stables altogether. Now that they were moving in the direction they wanted to go, Balthier's anxiety returned and he subconsciously chewed his bottom lip.

The other soldiers riding cerose gave them odd looks as they passed, but Balthier took no notice of them as he stared out beyond, across the wide field and he was surprised that there wasn't a single line of soldiers stretching out the entire width of the field. The cerose were all that stood between the rest of the army and the enemy.

"No foot soldiers?" Balthier asked aloud, craning his head above the other soldiers to see if he was wrong.

"Good. We don't have to worry about trampling anyone," Sard said. He dug a claw into Balthier's side and pointed up ahead. "Get up front."

"Why?"

"If I am going to shoot the enemy, I need to be able to see what I am aiming at, and we wouldn't want a stray arrow to land in the back of a Rozarrian's head. I imagine that would be frowned upon," Sard replied.

Balthier sighed but he nudged the cerose in the ribs and soon they were on the front line, the empty plains stretching out in front of them.

"Even with as little military training as I had, the Vanitians will be slaughtered in this setting. They won't fall for this. What the hell is Al-Tamir thinking?" Balthier muttered to himself.

Sard snorted. "Keep your thoughts on what is in front of you. Al-Tamir is impulsively violent, gaining pleasure from his mindless torture of those weaker than him." Balthier rolled his eyes, and a couple of soldiers gave the creature withering glares. "He is still no fool. He would have his bases covered; every conceivable move the Vanitians could make has been accounted for. They should have known they were walking into a trap when they invaded Rozarria. Such a brash move."

"You know, for all your hate, you and him share a remarkable similarity in your attitude and actions." Balthier could not conceal a shudder at the deathly hiss Sard made right next to his ear.

"We are nothing alike. Even I do not relish the pained cries of the weak."

"How are you so sure that he does?"

"I have lived in Rozarria, boy, where have you lived?"

He allowed the conversation to dry up and the next few minutes was spent with his gaze fixed on the horizon, although his attention was occasionally interrupted by the intermittent growls of his companion even as he puffed air into his ear.

A movement caught his eye and he was surprised to find Al-Tamir trotting out on his own cerose accompanied by the two captain's of this company. Those strangely light gray eyes silently and solemnly scanned the faces around him, and when they fell on Balthier and Sard, the prince-consort did not miss the quirk of his lips at seeing them. He continued walking down the line but he had not gone more than fifty more feet before he turned back and walked to a spot not too far from the pair.

Balthier smirked as his companion shifted and sighed in frustration from behind him, wriggling like a small child who desperately wanted something to catch his attention. When the minutes continued to stretch and still nothing happened, the intense calm that had befallen the mounted units began to quickly unravel into nervous shifting.

"Steady. They're coming," the female captain said and the troops settled once more. It was another couple of minutes before they could see movement in the distance.

The Vanitians slowly filed onto their side of the field in columns and he could see companies of cerose and chocobos on either side, but Balthier could see that they did indeed have the fraction of the strength that Rozarria held. "Does he intend on pummeling them into submission?"

"Remember, the Vanitians are the aggressor. Even Al-Tamir would not be foolish or cowardly enough to instigate a war against a much weaker opponent. He would appear the bad guy, and even now you're construing him as such. He just does what he has to," Sard said and Balthier could swear he heard the smile in his voice.

"For someone who hates him, you do an admirable job of defending his position," Balthier muttered.

"Well, you are surprisingly good at blinding yourself to the situation."

The Prince-consort bristled. "I _know_ all this. Still doesn't make me feel better about pummeling these people."

It appeared to be an unspoken agreement that no airships would be used in this battle. Friendly fire was always highly likely and their forces were so large, Rozarria did not need ships to further enhance its strength. He noticed that the Vanitians had attempted to offset their weakness in numbers by pulling a dozen catapults behind them. He leaned over further narrowing his eyes, _Are those cannons they're pulling?_

"Comrades, brothers," General Al-Tamir trotted his cerose out in front of the two companies and peered steadfastly at all of them. His gray eyes were afire and his voice thrummed with energy, "the time twixt the last battle for peace is unfortunately shortened as the people of Vance insist on pursuing more war. They have already stolen our lands, killed our people, and slaughtered our livestock. Many of your families have been torn asunder and your homes destroyed by this new invasion. Peace must prevail! It cannot until we drive the enemy from our lands."

Al-Tamir brought his sword out and raised it above his head, galloping his cerose back and forth so that all the soldiers could see. There was an echo of shivering metal as they all copied him and raised their voices into an irrepressible roar of approval. Balthier and Sard were the only few not to follow suit, but even he breathed harshly from the sudden excitement and he gripped the reigns tightly enough to blister his own hands. Sard took his crossbow out and latched the first bolt into place, leaning briefly around Balthier to open his mouth in a wide snarl at the Vanitians.

"Charge!"

Reality itself seemed to bend and unfold around him, when he booted the cerose into action, the ground suddenly falling away as the animal tore and scratched at it for footing. He pushed all of his weight into sending the animal forward and then quite suddenly they were moving and he blew out a shaky breath in surprise. This was _much _faster than any chocobo he had ever ridden. All of his thoughts seemed to have been left back at the front line even as they crossed No Man's Land, but he kept his eyes on the row of people in front of him, pumping his arms with the rhythm. As they came closer they could see the Vanitians bring forth long spears to impale oncoming cerose and Balthier felt his heart pound wildly as the distance swiftly closed between them.

A large, round object suddenly flew through the air and Balthier watched it with bated breath as it flew harmlessly overhead, only to land at a patch of ground they had already covered. Already screams cut through the air as the giant stones fell among the soldiers, but they only continued forward.

The man in front of him had surprisingly sky blue eyes that did not quite match with the brownish gray hair atop his head. His jaw was set with grim determination and his lined face that might have smiled the day before was now solemn and empty. _This is wrong. Can these people even recognize what fate awaits them?_

_Chunk! Ziiiiip._

A bolt was suddenly growing out of the man's head and he fell out of Balthier's sight. Without hesitation, another man slipped in to replace the broken cog of the machine, his spear held to the ready for Balthier to steer his cerose into.

_Chunk! Ziiiiip._

Another bolt from Sard also laid him flat and this time Balthier was able to see the horrific surprise in his eyes as his life ended. He felt Sard go through the motions behind him again.

_Chunk! Ziiiiip._

Then the poor soul next to the last victim fell in their path. He could see now that no soldier was either fool enough or brave enough to fill that spot in front of Balthier and it remained empty.

The cerose right next to them suddenly screeched and fell forward, its thin legs snapping beneath it and the man on his back was catapulted straight into the ground.

_Chunk! Ziiiiip._

Another soldier within Sard's sight met his end, and then suddenly Balthier could hear the musical singing of the sword as the creature pulled it from the sheath. The Prince-consort took the cue and pulled out his own sword, and then he silently reeled off the seconds in his head.

_1…2…3…4…5…6…7—_

All at once there was a resounding crunch of breaking bones and weapons, and the shrill shrieks of men being trampled under hoof. Balthier briefly saw a pair of wide eyes staring up at him before they disappeared under a spray of blood as his sword sliced across the man's face. He glanced over to his left in time to see Sard cleanly cleave a man's head from his shoulders. Ahead of him another two men found themselves bowled over by the large animal they rode and were then trampled under the animal's long legs.

All at once the pace slowed and Balthier found them surrounded on all sounds by healthy men, menacing them with spears that Sard abruptly sliced through with the sword from the gods'. The cerose screamed a bloodcurdling cry and rushed forward to knock one soldier off his feet, snorting gaily as he attempted to stomp the man to death.

Balthier pulled back on the reigns and they immediately found themselves backing out of the fray. _What in the Gods' names is happening? Even the animal I am riding wants blood._ He yelped when Sard deliberately overreached to slice an approaching soldier in the neck and he abruptly grabbed the collar of his jacket to pull him back onto the cerose.

"To your right!"

The Prince-consort turned and immediately leaned away as a man bearing his teeth in anger swung an axe that could not possibly miss. The edge of the blade twinkled merrily in the sun, causing Balthier to flinch at the impending impact, but it never came. He turned back to find blood running out of the man's skull and then he looked up in time to catch Al-Tamir's nod.

Balthier nodded back appreciatively and once again booted the cerose into a group of soldiers with his sword raised for an attack.

It was not five minutes into the battle and Balthier could see the Vanitian force was dwindling to piddling numbers. He breathed a sigh of dissatisfaction at what he now felt was the unjust slaughter of a country's people but then a sound shook the entire earth, one Balthier hoped never to hear again in his life.

SCREEEAAARRRRRRGGGH!

"What the hell?" He looked up as a massive shadow swept the field and he immediately felt his heart plunge into his stomach and he dropped his head when he felt the wind in its wake part his hair.

"It's an Occuria," Sard shouted from behind him. He looked back up just in time to see the dragon snatch a soldier and cerose straight from the ground and drop it into another group of Rozarrian soldiers before it turned on its side to begin another sweep of the area. Even from a mile away, he felt its orange eyes lock onto them. Sard did too. "Balthier, get us out of here."

For a moment longer he sat in stunned fascination before he once again tried to boot his cerose into actual, but it felt painstakingly slow as the massive Occuria began its low sweep of the ground. "C'mon, let's go," Sard muttered.

_Impossible. He knows this. He has to, _Balthier thought. After all their hard labor, after killing even just two of the gods they were now going to meet their end at the mouth of this veritable monster. Even when he was in the _Bahamut,_ had never felt time slow to quite the same standstill and he certainly never remembered a horrified fascination of watching his death play out while it fell out of the sky, but his body and the cerose suddenly felt cumbersome as opposed to a magnificently swift machine that had only been moments before killing men with the ease that this creature was.

It could be no more than fifty feet away and he saw its mouth widen to a size he was sure would catch both him and Sard and the cerose with little trouble. The rows of teeth were like daggers erupting from impossibly black gums coupled with an inky black tongue. The front legs, as thick as golmore trees, were stretched out in front of it like an eagle swooping down on its prey.

"Balthier!"

He dropped his head and brought his arm up in a feeble attempt to protect himself, even as he foolishly thought, _I am nothing more than soft, pink flesh. I seriously doubt the stoutest shield could save me. So foolish. I should have known this campaign was a fight against the futile. _A terrible stench of rotting flesh and blood wafted over them as it drew close and Balthier's last thought was, _I love you, Ashe. _

He squinted between his eyelids, but it was to little avail when red scales and white teeth filled his vision. As it swooped, he could feel the air swirl around them, heated and heady from its wings swirled around him and he choked on his last breath. There was a sudden scream of pain and fear that split through his hearing, unsure if he issued it or someone else. He could hear a horrible rending of metal as armor warped and folded in on itself and then felt the splash of unmistakably warm liquid fall onto him and in his mouth, and then he felt a searing pain as something ripped through his shoulder and then quite suddenly the dragon was gone and he was peering up into blue sky.

Balthier lay there for one stunned moment before his senses returned all at once and he sat bolt upright, spitting out and wiping the blood desperately from his face. The cerose also appeared to have been petrified for he felt it suddenly push its legs under itself and beat its own trail as far away from the dragon as it could.

"Sard?!"

"I'm right here," the creature groaned from beside him and slowly sat up, also desperately trying to wipe the blood from his fur.

"Are you hurt?" Balthier asked, even as he leaned over to look for an injury terrible enough to account for the blood.

"No, I'm fine," he replied with an undertone of annoyance as he continued to try and scrub the blood from his fur.

"Then who's blood—"

"I gave it an offering."

He gaped at him for a moment before the meaning hit. "You gave it someone else?"

"It was either us or him. I deemed our lives more valuable." The creature got to his feet, visibly trembling and panting from the close encounter with Death and he grinned wildly. "The Occuria's aim is horrendous. Such a gigantic creature and even then we sneaked out from under its claws. Hahahaha! We can win this!"

Balthier could only gape. "How can you _say_ that? How do you expect us to match up to such a monster? You are insane! That is the only explanation that can describe your assurance of victory. We're not going to win this time!"

The battle had completely fallen from Balthier's senses and he stared around himself at the bodies lying crushed and shorn all around them, seemingly in the center of ground zero. The adrenaline was still pumping quickly through his veins and he nearly jumped a foot into the air when Sard suddenly grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him nearly to his nose.

"You can't give up now! We are so close," Sard snarled into his face. "Fine! Lie down and die for all I care! I don't need you!" He threw the Prince-consort to the ground and turned his attention on the dragon, which was sweeping lines of shoulders to their doom with a single swipe of its tail and wave of its large front limbs. Soldiers raised their shields in pitiful defense and the swords they used struck uselessly against the scales of the beast only to be mercilessly swatted or crushed to their deaths.

Balthier attempted to crawl after him, the surroundings blurring in front of him, but he reached out in a vain hope to catch the creature's ankle once more but he only clutched air. "No, Sard…we need a plan," he mumbled before his head fell back to the earth when darkness clouded his vision.

The Occuria saw a Rozarrian attempt to escape on chocobo but it destroyed his hope when it bit down and flung the person into the air. It gave another rumbling roar of triumph until its victory was cut short by a shrill noise that managed to cut through it and the cacophony of screams. It turned and its cat-like orange eyes fell on a stout figure standing amid the debris nearby.

The dragon's lips peeled back into a satisfied smile when it recognized the figure. With deliberate steps that shook the ground, the dragon slowly made its way over to Sard. Even as soldiers fled its oncoming approach and animals screeched at the sight of it, Sard continued to coolly stand, leisurely holding the sword by its hilt as it rested on his back. His tail waved languidly behind him, and he even smiled as the dragon continued to draw near. His confidence would not be shaken today, not even by it.

When it was merely three score feet away, he cast his eyes around him and they landed on the shield of a dead soldier who continued to clutch it for protection. He wrenched it away and said to the Occuria, "You should have known I would be your undoing."

It roared in reply and with a guttural growl breathed a jet of flame down onto Sard, who held the shield up in protection. He hissed and moaned at the heat that engulfed him and he was certain his boots were melting from the blast, but it relented almost immediately and stuck out its right limb like a cat attempting to catch a mouse. Sard ducked and rolled out of the way, jumping to his feet nimbly and continuing to hold the sword up, waiting for an opening.

The dragon's head swayed on its neck like a snake sizing up its prey, then struck with lightning speed only to recoil with a roar. Blood spattered to the ground and when Sard saw the lancing wound across its jaw, he laughed in assured victory.

"You have no protection from me! I can kill you! I will kill you," he crowed to the heavens. It retaliated with a swing of its tail, which he easily ducked. It was then he darted in, his eyes focused to a point on its breast, and attempted to shove his sword through the hard scales to pierce its heart. It roared in panic and reared up on its hind legs, flapping its wings for height so that the point of the sword just barely missed. Sard quickly had to roll out of the way to avoid being crushed when it came back down to the ground. He reemerged from underneath the dragon and shoved the sword point into its left shoulder, eliciting a terrible roar of pain in return.

The air swirled around Sard again and he instantly leapt out of range of the dragon when it took to the skies yet again, but instead of circling for another attempt at killing Sard it flew toward the distant horizon.

"Arrrooooooooooooooaaarrrrrgh!" His victory howl ended in a roar. He ran after it, holding his sword on high and screaming into the night, "Run, Occuria, run! You will not escape for long! Your fate is in my hands now! Flee, coward, flee! Ahahahahahahaha!"

"Arrooooooooooooooooooo!" His howl rent the still afternoon air. He seemed to be the only moving thing in the entire field.

Still shivering from victory, he turned on his heel and headed back toward that pathetic hume. _And he thought we wouldn't be able to kill it, too. Once again, I am right, and I know that we can see it to its death. Now where is he?_

His victorious grin was replaced by a puzzled frown as his eyes scanned the ground around him where he walked. The dragon had landed close by, he really hadn't had to walk far to recapture its attention yet he could not see Balthier's familiar auburn hair anywhere. _Maybe I walked in the wrong direction. _Sard turned to the right and began searching among the bodies, even though he seriously doubted his sense of direction had been jarred at all during the confrontation. He had only needed to walk straight back from where he came.

"Balthier?" The man would be furious for using his real name. "Balthier?" But there was no evil glare directed his way; there was not a single body that stirred with breath or even recognition. "Balthier?!" He ran back to where he had strayed from his original path and ran along it again until he found the familiar gouges in the ground from where the dragon had attempted to snatch both of them.

Yet there was no one. The cerose who had carried them into battle had long fled, and the man who had been with him through the entire journey was nowhere to be found.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

"They've taken him!"

Al-Tamir raised his eyes from the map he was leaning over and stared dully at Sard. "No, let him in. It will be no great loss if he kills me," the General said to the guards who attempted to restrain the creature.

Sard narrowed his eyes at the General, who had resumed writing something on the map before a loud groan caused him to raise his head. "Oh please, you'll have the rest of your life to wallow in your guilt. You need to go after Rakesh," Sard said, pointing in a vague direction.

"You're simply going to have to get him yourself," Al-Tamir replied. Sard suddenly wrenched the quill from between his fingers and threw it across the room, and then he grabbed Al-Tamir by his collar and dragged him across the table.

"You will go and get him! You made us fight in this war, now you have to live up to your responsibility and retrieve him from Vance."

Al-Tamir slowly and carefully bent Sard's fingers and eventually freed his collar from the creature's strong grasp. "I did not force you to do anything."

"You sure as hell didn't offer us much choice."

"From the look on your face, I didn't think you wanted any other offer."

For one moment, Sard honestly wished he could make people drop dead on sight. "What do you think I'll tell his widow when his body is shipped to her in a crate?"

"His wife might understand considering the circumstances," Al-Tamir snapped back. He turned back to the older man who had been silently standing and watching their confrontation. "Prepare the troops for immediate departure, call Lieutenant Al-Frem and tell him to activate palace defenses. Secure the royal family in the designated safe-zone."

"Yes, sir," the man said and immediately walked out the door.

"I'm assuming now that you're free to find Rakesh," Sard said with a slight bow and a nasty smile. When he also turned to walk off, Al-Tamir abruptly grabbed his shoulder and pushed him against the table. When he struggled, his movements were stilled by the edge of the cool knife sliding threateningly along his throat.

"Do not try my patience, Sard! It's entirely too tempting to slit your throat and steal that magnificent sword for my own. But after what I saw on the battlefield, I sense that your skill will be of use in the near future. Right now, I have a country to protect from the devastating claws of that dragon. I don't care who he is, Rakesh is not worth an entire country," Al-Tamir finished, but the anger continued to flare in his eyes and he clenched his jaw truculently.

"How 'bout the entire world? Is he worth it then?" Sard asked and it was clear his anger hadn't dissipated either.

Al-Tamir made no reply, but returned to perusing the map with the quill in hand.

Sard swept out of the room and continued down the hallways. _I sincerely hope the Occuria show him no mercy if he's captured. At the end of this entire affair, I'm seriously considering hiring myself to assassinate that fool. _

_How could it come to this? _He asked himself when he stopped by the armory to replenish his supply of bolts. _It can't be. I've never desired or needed to do this. _He sighed and shook his head at how pathetic it was, but he could see no other alternative. He had to go rescue Balthier.

Much like in Rozarria his awakening was slow, but the conditions could not have been more contrasting. Instead of a soft but firm mattress beneath his back, he could feel the rough, pitted texture of a wooden table. The piles of blankets had disappeared and with it the warm contented feeling of safety. His body shivered beyond his control and the pain that emanated from his shoulder was an infectious sore for his whole body.

With quite a bit of trepidation he opened his eyes and found himself staring at a wooden ceiling that likely matched the wood underneath him. Licking his lips nervously, he took a chance and asked, "Sard?" Never in his strangest dreams did he ever imagine he would find comfort in having the creature nearby.

"Ah, awake at last. I thought you might die before we had a chance to stitch you back together," a strangely deep female voice sounded from somewhere and he turned his head.

The motion sent his body into agony, but he also noticed he had been cuffed to the wooden table. The cuff left a surprising amount of space around his wrist, but his hand was caught when he tried to squeeze it through. The ugly black iron was bolted securely to the table and did not budge when he pulled against it.

"I could have saved you the energy by telling you it'd be pointless to even try and slip out," she said and this time he had a face to go with the voice. She had long brown hair that trailed down to her waist and her eyes were so dark that he briefly thought of Sari, but that thought was almost immediately quelled by the merciless sneer on her face. Though her face was mostly smooth, he could see deep lines around her eyes and around her mouth. She was clearly in her waning prime.

"Where's Sard?" He asked with a voice that did not shake despite the circumstances. His encounter with the dragon, he was certain, had used up his entire lifetime's supply of fear. No matter how ugly that sneer could get, she'd never match the dragon in sheer intimidation.

Balthier could not keep the smirk from his face when the sneer deepened as he imagined it would. "I cannot believe you would trust that monster with anything. He left you to die on that field."

His eyebrows shot up and he had to fight not to smile. _They didn't catch him. Perhaps he managed to defeat that dragon. _Although he took heart in the thought that Sard was free and could continue their mission, he laughed at the notion that the creature might rescue him. _Impossible! I would die before he even thought of my wellbeing. I'll have to rely on Al-Tamir, _he mused.

"It's always amusing to hear you couldn't catch that rascal. I bet you regret ever giving him free will to begin with," Balthier finally replied and then figuratively held his breath. She was one of the Occuria—that he was sure of—but he still couldn't be sure that their relationship was to Sard. He was rewarded with a stiffening of her back and her face paling to the color of snow.

"It would be beneath us to even consider capturing him. He has nothing of value and will forever carry the shame of letting you get away five times. But look at you now, completely at our mercy."

"Yes, it only took the ever omniscient gods three times to capture me. You make Sard look a little better in comparison," he replied with a smirk. "Admit it: you're afraid. He's already killed two of your kind and you're afraid."

_Crack!_

He jerked his head away after she smacked him across the face, but still he only smiled. Balthier wasn't sure why he was unafraid but he continued to smirk knowingly at her. "I'm sure it would not have been easy snatching me if Sard's attention hadn't been on that dragon, otherwise I seriously doubt you'd still be alive."

If she had been going to answer, she was saved the trouble when a gentle knock came at the door. She pulled it open to reveal a snow white moogle who padded through leisurely.

"Sorry for my lateness, kupo! Ah, is this the patient?" It floated through the air with a flutter of its wings and landed right next to Balthier's ribs. It bent down to sniff at the wound in Balthier's shoulder and lightly clicked its tongue. "It looks angry. You most certainly aren't favored by the gods."

He blinked. _Of course she has no idea that she is working under a god._ Balthier could not see his shoulder well, but even from his view he could see the pale, dull shine of the bone in his shoulder. When the moogle prodded it, the Prince-consort hissed and bucked. "It will need stitches. Antibiotics?"

"No," the Occuria said and he could see her sneering smile was back on, "He won't be alive long enough for it to matter."

_She honestly thinks she's going to kill me? _Balthier had to admit there was little hope that Sard was on his way or even that Al-Tamir was either. His apprehension was slowly starting to build, but he continued to remain in that deadly calm state that so confused him.

"Very well, kupo! Subject number 247 will be stitched up now."

Balthier had received stitches before and without anesthesia, but he had never had a wound quite as big or as grave as this and while the moogle sorted through her pouch he mentally braced himself. It did no good. The pain from the tool poking through his skin in a especially sensitive area was excruciating. He opened his mouth to scream but it got stuck somewhere in his throat and for one minute all he could do was stare wide-eyed at the ceiling.

And then his voice came back, "Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!"

In spite of the moogle's ears being right next to his mouth, she didn't even flinch and continued to deftly pull each stitch through. It hadn't been too difficult to guess what they'd be doing to him all week, and though he screamed, he would refuse to beg. When it came too much, he started banging his head against the table and biting his lip ferociously.

Balthier wasn't sure how long the moogle had been at it, but just as he started to feel his conscious let go, a sharp slap on the face woke him once more. "Please try to stay awake, Balthier. It will only be a few more minutes," the Occuria said in what he imagined was meant to be a soothing voice. He cringed when she started to lovingly stroke his face, but her nails seemed to dig a little more each time.

"Done," the moogle suddenly said, and to emphasize this she threw the tool in a bin where it clattered harmlessly.

He let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding and sucked in deep gulps from where he lay on the table. It was only then he noticed the sheen of sweat soaking his skin and trickling down the slopes of his body.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" She said in a sickeningly patronizing voice. "It'll be much worse tomorrow. Take him to his cell."

The iron cuffs suddenly opened and he took the opportunity to leap off the table for the door. It was an expected move and the Occuria grabbed his left arm casually as if he was a small child she had to hold onto. She twisted his left arm behind him, intentionally stressing his new stitches.

"Now, Balthier, don't be ridiculous. You'll only succeed in causing yourself more pain." He fell to his knees, his voice robbed from him once more with the onset of the pain again.

Balthier walked the rest of the way to the cell, if only to not continually pull his stitches and slid back against one of the walls without a fight.

He now understood why he was not as scared as he should be. He had started to accept that he was not going to live through the venture, and it was only after the encounter with the dragon that it was made clear. Ashe always complained of his notorious stubborn streak, but even it wasn't strong enough to prevail through this persisted onslaught. He would continue to fight, but now he would not be surprised if he did die.

Ashelia finally abandoned her paperwork after she found herself looking out the window for the tenth time that day. Originally she had intended on staying with the Margraces, but news of how disastrously the battle went and the threat of impending danger had made her retract her decision and return to her country. She did not wish to be kept more than a night there.

She still had trouble fathoming how badly the day had gone. Not only had she failed to stop the war, but the casualties had suddenly skyrocketed when the dragon had appeared. They were meant to stop when the Vanitians surrendered, but several hundred Rozarrians had their lives needlessly cut short by the monster

_This was not supposed to happen! _Ashe slammed her fist against her desk onboard. It was important for a ruler to control her emotions, but the disappointment of having the peace she had worked so hard to attain go to pieces in one of her stronger allies set back that dream for even longer.

_Now, my Queen, throwing a childish fit will not bring the council to your side. In fact, it's quite unbecoming of you._

It had been only a month since he had died, and she felt a pang of guilt that she had not thought of him much in the past week. However, it had been even longer since she'd imagine him giving advice. "Balthier," she whispered, "what would you have me do? The peace is not settling as well as it was supposed to."

His voice did not come back with answers and she sighed heavily. "It still hurts, not having you here. You provided such a lovely distraction from politics. Now I must distract myself. I don't think this is a crisis even you could have prevented." She looked down at the paper work, the developments from the brief Rozarrian-Vance war and those of King Halsin's invasion.

She would offer aid to Rozarria and Cercia in recompense for their losses, but beyond that she hesitantly accepted that there was nothing more that could bring the crisis to a close. Shoving away that paper work, she now returned to matters that directly affected her people.

As Ashe had predicted, the council was creating unrest within the palace in an attempt to push her into releasing the information about her pregnancy. Once this crisis was handled, she would personally see to their investigation and consider replacing some of them if only to stamp out these underhanded tactics.

They had been in luck though. With two wars undoubtedly decorating the front page of the newspaper the next day, Ashe was truly considering announcing her pregnancy in hopes that it might bring her nation through relatively unscathed. That was the closing argument.

"In five days time, I will announce my pregnancy," she said to herself. _That should cheer everyone, _she thought, but it did little to cheer her.


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note:** Sorry about the wait. This took a little longer than I had anticipated.

**Chapter 24**

_Creeeeeeeeeaaaaaak!_ "Balthier, it's time." When he did not stir, she gestured with a hand. "Pick him up."

He didn't hide the grimace that twisted his face when the guards yanked him to his feet.

"Tsk tsk, Balthier. You look horrible. Are you sure you're feeling well?"

Balthier refused to humor her and mutely stared her in the eyes. After a moment his gaze dropped to his shoulder and he felt his stomach churn at the sight. The gash the dragon had left in his shoulder stretched straight down his chest and ended just above his hip. The skin along the tear was red and pulpy white all at once, and it gave him the horrible impression that it was dissolving.

The Occuria did not force him to answer and started walking down the hall at a brisk pace that Balthier was forced to match. He trembled uncontrollably in the arms of the guard and a cold sweat continued to shine on his now milky skin. He briefly wondered on why they had left him only in pants, but he cared not mention it if it meant stripping him of those as well.

Back through another door, Balthier immediately recognized the rough-hewn wooden table and he had to bite his lip to hide his groan. _Is there any rhyme or reason to this, or do they just want to see me suffer?_

"On the table," she snapped and Balthier obediently climbed onto it. The guards clicked the iron cuffs back into place and he vainly pulled at them again, but his effort was only half-hearted. Once the soldiers had departed, she stepped up beside the table and leaned over to look into his unfocused eyes and much like yesterday she began to gently stroke his cheek. "I'm sure you always take pleasure when due justice is served. It's always such a satisfying feeling knowing that the world is a little bit safer and the criminal is suffering for his gall to disrupt the balance of order."

"You should've died a long time ago, my Prince. By Marksot, in the _Bahamut_, at the Ridorana Cataract. It's because of you we have no peace. You are constantly offsetting this balance and that's what war rises from."

"You wanted more suffering, more death. That's what brings war," he replied, still staring past her at the ceiling.

She moved so swiftly he barely had time to flinch.

_Crunch!_

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggh!"

Tears trickled unbidden down his face and he gasped for breath to counteract the pain. He moaned when his broken fingers twitched. She held up the hammer threateningly within his sight and said, "Speak again and I will remove your fingers instead."

_Gods damn it! If I die before Sard arrives, I hope he makes her suffer, _he thought as he continued staring stony-faced at the ceiling above him. But he promised himself he would weather this until it eventually tore him down.

"I'm sorry, Sard."

He heard a noise of disgust and flinched when he thought she might actually fulfill her threat, but then she leaned in again and said, "You whisper his name instead of your dear wife's. What would she think?"

Again, he remained mute, allowing only a pair of tears to slide down his cheeks. _If I survive this, I will never torture another being. God, I am so weak. _Broken fears were far from life-threatening but already memories from his past, particularly those of last month, were filling his vision as though it was a preempt to the rest of his life preparing to flash. He could see himself violently stamping his foot on Sard's hand, and his fingers emanated splinters of hot pain in sympathy to the creature.

"Seeing as conversation is light—"

"What would you have me do? My wife is dead to me, as I am to her." Balthier' stomach lurched in violent revolt to his words, but he bit his lip and quelled the nauseous feeling sweeping him. "You've already told me I am going to die and for the moment he's my only family."

_Pathetic indeed. To latch onto a creature as detestable as Sard._ But if he was to be honest with himself, Sard was, for the moment, all he had to rely on. There was no use clutching onto a phantom of Ashe when she had no knowledge of his existence anymore. Sard did know and even if the bastard was toasting the end of their partnership, he was still more tangible.

She grinned coldly and shook her head. "Trusting in Sard would be like trusting one of us. You'll wind up dead in the end."

"He'll give me a little more time and a fighting chance. Unlike you, coward," Balthier hissed at her, finally meeting her eyes.

Her own eyes were like chips of ice in her skull. "Finally finished with your need to stall? Good." He turned to the ceiling and attempted to brace himself, yet again, but his concentration lapsed when he felt something digging into his palm. He only just registered it was a spike when she raised the hammer again and he abruptly looked away.

Balthier's scream was torn so viciously from his throat, he was certain a raw patch of skin was now missing there. She gave him no reprieve as she pounded the nail deep into his palm and he kept his eyes closed, refusing to look at what she was doing.

When it finally stopped, Balthier slumped against the table, panting rapidly, soaked in sweat like the day before. He couldn't tell if it was tears or sweat that ran tracks down his face, but once again fortified himself in preparation for the damage.

His eyes grew wide when he finally looked over and watched the dark red blood ooze out of what had originally been his palm. The iron spike stuck crudely out of his palm and he could sense that she had hammered it through to the other side until it was embedded into the wooden table itself. For a moment he half-wished he could simply remove the entire hand that would spare him the pain of both the palm and the broken fingers, but he knew there wouldn't be relief.

"I never thought you would find such a wound so fascinating. Don't worry, you'll soon have a matching injury for your other hand," she replied and he saw her put another spike over on the other hand's palm.

Balthier jerked his other hand, tightening it into a closed fist. He narrowed his amber eyes in anger and his face was livid with suppressed rage. When she still attempted to dig the iron into his knuckles, he thrashed the arm about, attempting to pull the cuffs out from the table once again, but as much as he strained the bolts remained unmovable.

Her eyes flashed and for a moment he believed they were glowing red with anger, but then the illusion past when she bent over him and quietly hissed into his ear, "If you do not give me your hand, I will see to it that your wife suffers the exact same fate as you."

His heart throbbed violently at the thought and, even as his faced paled from the pain, he slowly relaxed his hand and allowed her to place the spike on his palm. He turned his head away again and clenched his eyes shut as he waited for the pain.

_Clank! _

Balthier howled and writhed and bucked on the table, draining his energy. He had hoped to pass out, hope to eventually be relieved and, just as he had done with the stitches, he began banging his head viciously against the table. She stopped her hammering and yanked his head up by a tuft of his hair, their faces now mere inches apart yet again.

He couldn't focus. His eyes were rolling in his sockets and he was just there on the verge of unconsciousness. _Please, please…_ When had he been reduced to begging his brain into passing out? A sharp crack on his cheek let him know she had slapped him, but compared to the rest of the pain emanating from his aching body, it felt more like a bee sting. Nothing. She wanted him to stay awake for the rest of the session but he was fading fast. He felt his lips quirk into a victorious smirk.

Suddenly, his eyes widened again, but not in pain. In panic. She ran a nail delicately down his chest until she came to the waistband of his pants, briefly glancing up to see she had his complete attention. She grinned. "Now we will continue." Another two resounding clanks of hammer hitting iron and she was done, patiently putting the hammer back to where it hung on the wall with the rest of the tools, and then she pried the iron spikes out of his hands.

Balthier clenched his eyes shut and it was only after she had moved to the other hand that he turned to look. Even though blood continued to spill out of his drenched hands, he could see the dimensions of the hole in his palm. Was that bone there? He let his head slump against the table.

He barely noticed when the Ocurria had unlocked the iron clasps, but as he wavered on the verge of fainting he doubted he could have escaped. The guards did not escort him as much as drag him back to the cell. He kept his head down and his eyes closed. All the way down the hall he could feel the blood oozing out of his palms and down his fingers until the droplets collected and fell. They dragged him to the middle of the cell and dropped him none too gently before they left yet again.

All that could be heard was his ragged and labored breathing as he lay there. Balthier stayed in that position for what felt like hours. Then his eyes flickered and he glanced around blearily as though he hadn't realized where he was. Clenching his hands into fists, he maneuvered his body without his fingers until he was leaning against the wall, and then he opened his hands and stared at them. He still had difficulty accepting that it was the fabric of his pants he could see clean through the other side of his palms.

Balthier laughed. It sounded cold and harsh echoing around the cell room, but he continued laughing so hard until his ribs ached. "I'm going to die from infection before they can kill me themselves," he said with a bitter smile. He pressed his forehead against the cool stone wall and let his eyes flutter shut. The heat was already setting in and he briefly wondered if he would be alive by the end of the week.

Marskot inconspicuously bent over a pot, scrubbing it vigorously with the brush, but mostly to stay below the line of sight. It had been raining steadily for three days, and after a mudslide had killed a dozen slaves and three guards, mining was suspended until the area dried. All the slaves' chores had been relocated in doors, and they were forced to continually sweep and clean the fortress from top to bottom every day.

As little as he cared about where he was working, he did think working inside was a welcome change for his now red and blistered skin. The cleaning would also be a nice respite to the constant rise and fall of that pickaxe. Sweating profusely as he was while washing dishes, he knew he was starting to come to the end of his rope, but still he hung on.

"Hey, 238. Go feed the prisoners," a deep voice said from behind him and he turned to find himself standing nearly chest to chest with the heavily scarred warden.

Marskot ducked and scurried off, but even with his back bent he could feel the sullen eyes of the other slaves following him. After two days indoors, two other slaves had been caught eating the prisoner's food that they were supposed to be delivering. When the warden had asked for another volunteer—whom would undoubtedly be monitored—Marskot promptly volunteered.

When he got one tray from the window, he had to admit even to himself that it was difficult to resist the urge not to hide in a corner and eat it. A thin soup with perhaps two pieces of hearty meat and black bread hardly constituted a square meal, but it set his mouth watering regardless. He resisted. He could only imagine that the prisoners were receiving even worse treatment than the slaves were.

His body did not make it easy for him. Almost as soon as he left the dining hall, it grumbled uproariously and he doubled over in pain, clenching his teeth and eyes against it and willing his caved stomach to settle. The tray rattled between his fingers until he finally won control again and could move forward without thinking of the cramps.

The first cell he stopped at he peered through the cell bars. This particular prisoner did not appear to be doing especially well, and he felt his fears were confirmed when he found the emaciated man sprawled on his cell form. Clearing his throat, he said, "Hello?" He hadn't used his voice in so long it felt like a croak coming out of his throat until he cleared it again and it sounded a little clearer. "Can you eat?"

There was no movement. Not even his chest stirred with the rise and fall of his breathing. Marskot sighed and moved on to the next cell where a balding man feebly crawled his way to the door to receive his food. His clear blue eyes briefly flitted up to meet his and he winced in sympathy for the man.

Marskot brought only one food tray at a time and so when he came back he went to the next cell, and cautiously peered through the slits in the door. His heart gave a twinge every time he set eyes on this man's back, which he was surprised to find was clear of the usual stripes that most of the prisoners carried, but it was his auburn hair. Just one glimpse of it could generate the entire form of Balthier before his eyes, right down to that knowing smile.

The tears started to trickle down his face and he rested his forehead against the barred window of the door. He shook his head and couldn't keep the whisper from escaping his lips, "Balthier…"

Marskot lifted his eyes when he heard the familiar scrape of the prisoner twisting around and then he felt his heart stop. His eyes went wide with the shock, his mouth dropped open, and his fingers went so numb he thought he might drop the tray. The world swam in his eyes and his heart was pounding so hard against his ribs he was wondering if it might fail him, but then he finally pulled himself together when he asked, "Balthier? Are you really…?"

"Marskot?" It was also a croak and if the Dorstonian noticed anything, he saw the pain deepen in his old friend's eyes before he turned away and buried his face in his arms.

"Balthier, please," he rasped. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, but you have to get out of here. They are going to kill you. I can help."

"You cannot save me," the Prince-consort replied in a whisper. "You cannot even save yourself."

"I don't need saved," he said and then quickly deposited the tray through the slot down below. When his friend did not turn again, a hot flash of anger seared through his chest and he grabbed the bars of the window and growled, "You can't let them win!"

"And what about you? Why couldn't you do something?" Balthier asked and eyed him archly. His face was sickly pale and shining with sweat, but he kept a stoic expression.

"Because you're better than me. You always have been," Marskot replied, slumping against the bars again as his energy started to run lower. "They already have me, but they don't have you. You can still stop them and I can at least get you out the door."

Balthier finally stirred from the floor and gracefully found his way to his feet despite his stiff movements. "I am holding out as long as I can, but there is only so much I can take." He held up his hands for the Dorstonian to see and he recoiled, which caused Balthier to smirk. "A slow death for my hubris."

"Rightful hubris. You were always too stubborn to give up. Hard to imagine that streak is coming to an end," Marskot replied with a bitter undertone. "I am going to spring you from this hell, Balthier. And you are going to get back at them. Expect me in the dead of night; I must get back to my chores."

He had just turned away when Balthier said, "I saw Sari. The Rozarrian nobles are virtually falling at her feet, but she continues to wait for you, even with an outstanding bounty on your head."

Marskot winced. "Tell Vaan I'm sorry."

It was well past curfew when Marskot finally made his move. The rows of bunks stuffed with sleeping slaves were quiet and still, if not entirely peaceful. Most other nights the Dorstonian would fall asleep to be consistently tortured by his nightmares, but this night he lie in bed with his eyes closed until the guard finished his rounds and went outside. They flickered open when the door shut and he immediately rolled out onto the floor. His bedmates never stirred but he noticed a few eyes shining in the dark, but he ignored them as he made a bee-line for the door.

Picking it with a stray piece of wire had not been as difficult as he had foreseen and soon he had slipped out of the slave's housing, and did not stop until he had slid down behind a couple of crates by the main building. He cautiously peered over the top and was surprised at how few guards were strolling the grounds at night, no doubt encouraged by the willful surrender of their captives. He knew that would change after tonight.

Once Marskot had slipped inside, he found it easy to slip into the cell block with no one on guard. Too easy. He could hear his heart pounding, and he had to breathe slow and easy to keep his panic from overwhelming him. When he reached the second cell to the left, he leaned in and whispered, "Balthier? Are you there?"

The cell was in complete darkness. What little light there was in the hall barely illuminated the doors. He jumped and turned when he thought he heard a noise down the hall, but after a few minutes of silence he turned back again and then fell back into the wall at the two eyes peering at him. "I hope you have enjoyed your stay here, because I'm afraid you must vacate now. We need the space," Marskot said in a half-hearted attempt to lighten the mood.

Sweat trickled down his forehead as he worked the lock until finally he said, "Say something before I lose my mind."

"I thought talking was generally frowned upon in a situation like this," Balthier replied to his request as he continued to watch him from the window. "So the plan is for me to make an escape? What of you?"

"I am not the one being tortured. I am living happily in a mediocre situation and it is not within the near future that I can expect to die. Besides, I can only hold you back. Much too weak to trek it to the border," he muttered until he finally heard the lock click and he sighed.

Marskot led the way, carefully checking each room he led Balthier through until they hit the dining hall, and it was here that he froze. His eyes went wide when he noticed someone was rummaging behind the counter on the far side. He momentarily considered waiting until the person had departed, but each minute they stayed there was a decent chance they would get caught. He held his breath as he started to creep across the floor, thanking every higher being he could think of that the floor was stone.

He had just opened the door for Balthier when the guard made his appearance from behind the counter. "What the hell?"

Marskot tackled him to the ground and screamed at the top of his lung, "Run, Balthier, run!"

The Prince-consort hesitated for an instant and then he was tearing out of the door. He tore across the ground as fast as his legs could carry him. His breath left him in harsh gasps and the wound on his torso screamed in protest to the swift movement, but he continue running despite the aches and pains in his entire body.

A weight suddenly fell onto him and pinned his legs to the ground. "No," the cry tore from his throat as he continued to struggle along, trying to ignore the searing fire of dirt rubbing into the open wounds of his palms. He had just about wriggled out from beneath the man when another person fell onto him.

"NO!" Balthier continued to struggle, tears streaking down his face, even as he realized he would not be getting away.


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note: **Terribly sorry for the long wait. University decided to dump everything on me all at once.

**Chapter 25**

The first rays of dawn found Balthier on the dreaded wooden table. Whenever he shifted in the night, he felt the pull of the dried blood that leaked from his torn stitches. He decided to glance at it now, and he laughed bitterly at seeing half his torso swathed in blood. The laugh was short-lived and his face turned back to burned stone. _I swear, I am going to kill that bitch, even if it means I have to die._

The door opened and he turned to see her enter. She cocked her head at his willingness to face her now, in contrast to when he attempted to ignore her. She made no comment of that and instead said, "My goodness, Balthier. I heard you tried to escape last night, using Marskot. Hah! I forgot he was even here."

"Liar," he snapped and he was glaring daggers at her. "Marskot is no use to you. Let him go!"

She grinned. "You still have spirit, not that I would expect anything less from you. No, you see, Marskot is very much in the same position as you are. He is here so I can make him suffer."

Balthier growled at her and said, "No matter what you do to him or me, just remember that one day you will be forced to answer for your crimes. When that day comes, I sincerely hope you suffer as slowly and painfully as all your victims have. And I hope it's Sard who does it too." He smiled when he saw her pale slightly.

"As much as you talk, it's quite clear you know little about Sard if you expect him to swoop in and rescue you. It is us who govern him," she replied as coolly as she could, but Balthier only smirked and shook his head.

"I would be astounded if he did come down here with the intention of rescuing me. But if he is, I may correct you while I wait. You are doing nothing more than trying to delude yourself into thinking Sard can be saved for your petty scheming, when it is quite clear that you fear to receive your death at his hands."

Balthier suddenly yelped when she abruptly climbed onto the table and straddled him. He thrashed, bucking his hips and pulled at the cuffs to dislodge her, but she stayed where she was and leaned over him until they were very nearly kissing. She ran a finger down his face. "Your cheeks are flushed, Balthier. I think the fever is setting in." There was a moment of silence where they breathed in each other's air and stared into each other's eyes, each of them looking for the other's mood.

She had been certain he was about to break with the last torture session, but even after the fever and the chills began to wrack him he kept the truculent jut to his jaw. She knew seeing Marskot, despite the traitor killing him, had stirred his unfailing loyalty and the need to be the Leading Man. One visit from Marskot had undone all of their work in halting his and Sard's ridiculous campaign.

"I have tried everything to break you. Most of my victims succumb after having holes driven into their palms, but you…even before Marskot ruined everything I knew I had not driven you beyond that point. But now the gloves are off. No more games." She began tearing at the buttons on his trousers, and for one horrible moment he thought she was going to rape him. Then she jumped back off the table and undid the cuffs on his leg so that she could pull his pants off, before making her way back up to the front and releasing his hands as well.

She pulled the door open to consult the guards. "Take him to the second chamber."

Balthier scrambled to his feet as she talked to the armored men, and he waited for an opening. Then when the men came closer, he lowered a shoulder and attempted to dodge between them. He felt his heart soar when he was certain he'd cleared them, but one guard got a hand on his arm and crushed a dark blue bruise into it.

The entire way, Balthier dragged his heels and pulled and thrashed any way he could to break their steel grip, but he found himself, still naked and covered in sweat, chained in the middle of the new chamber. The Occuria entered merely a couple of minutes later and she did not hide her appreciation as she looked him up and down. He glared at her.

"I can see why your wife must enjoy being married to you," she said. She jumped back when he violently pulled at the chains again. "'Tis a pity I have to destroy her flawless image of you. I would have loved you for myself." He jerked his head away as she ran another splayed hand across his cheek.

His eyes suddenly fell on a glint of metal in her hand and he felt his breath catch at the thick pipe hanging loosely from her fingers. "If you've been keeping track of this in stages, consider this the beginning of the end."

"I thought that when I first teamed up with Sard," he snapped.

"Well, consider this the final act then. By this time tomorrow, I will be throwing your carcass out for the carrion. I think the day after I'll see to it your wife receives whatever is left for a proper burial."

Balthier's eyes narrowed in growing hatred of this Ocurria posing as anything remotely human. His eyes went to the tiny barred window on the wall and was surprised to find it was barely noon outside. _I am supposed to be dead by tomorrow morning, _he somberly told himself.

The knowledge of his impending doom made time stretch around him. He watched her raise the iron bar over her head and closed his eyes when she brought it down. It stung his skin with a dull '_thunk_,' and he groaned in the agony.

After half a dozen hits, his face now seemed to be screwed into a permanent grimace. He gasped and cried, wondering how in the world his bones were holding against this onslaught and sincerely hoped his organs were just as tough. _Why? You're going to die, so why? Why not simply die from this beating. It might ease my passing._

He was still not ready to give up though. He was almost certain they were speeding up this process because of Sard. Balthier couldn't stop the snort of laughter at this thought. _Wishful thinking…_

Balthier jumped when the metal pipe cracked him on the cheek, and he ran his tongue along the inside to be sure his teeth were all still intact. He blearily opened his eyes to see the Ocurria scowling at him, and her jaw was clenched in trembling rage. "How can you still stand there and laugh?"

"Despite what you seem to think, death isn't an entirely unwelcomed prospect." Balthier felt like he was lying through his teeth at that. There was no denying he wished his body would finally be given a rest from the constant agony, but despite all of the pain he had difficulty believing he would not be breathing by noon the next day.

With the sole exception of Marskot stabbing him, luck had always been on his side in the form of far too many close shaves with death. The two fights with Bergan, fighting the Golmore Dragon, fighting what should have been the unstoppable combination of Vayne and Venat, escaping the _Bahamut_, and escaping Sard, and now finding himself alive at the end of two particularly violent encounters with the Occuria. Now as he tried to tell himself that he really was going to be dead tomorrow, he could not help but feel pleased that it took an angry god to see him dead.

_I shouldn't give up, _he told himself. _I promised Ashe I would see her again. I am beholden to that promise. I always keep my word. _Even if he found it difficult to believe he would be dead tomorrow, he did not find it so hard to fathom that he might not end the venture in a living state either. Whether it was tomorrow or next week, he felt certain he was doomed to failure in some way or another.

He heaved a sigh of exasperation at the turn of his thoughts and desperately tried to shake them. _So far luck has been on my side! Maybe the dies of fate will roll favorably for me, _he mused to himself.

Balthier wasn't sure how long he had spent musing, but the Occuria eventually grew tired of him standing slumped in his chains without any cries of pain bouncing off the walls. The metal pipe interrupted his conscious with a vengeance and a howl escaped his lips before he could stop it.

After what felt like hours of having the pipe land on every part of his body, Balthier sagged in the chains sucking in air as if that was all that was precious to him. The Occuria grabbed his face in one hand once more and stared him coldly in the eye, "Remember, this is the last day you can enjoy such simple pleasures as breathing." Then she let his head drop and walked out the door, signaling to two guards to take him back to his room.

The moment they released his hands from the cuffs, he fell to the floor in undisguised exhaustion. His whole body shivered from the pain and his dull eyes peered out from beneath heavily eyelids to stare blankly. Once more they grabbed his arms and dragged his knees along the floor to his cell. He refrained from putting up a fight and simply let his head hang limply. He blinked dully, but his eyes scanned the black and blue stripes that now decorated every inch of his body. He remained silent when they let him fall to the floor.

Balthier refused to stir even after he was alone. He struggled to open his eyes and his body trembled with the constant ache that seemed to have settled directly into his bones. After what felt like hours he began to leverage himself up and he dragged himself over to lean against the wall. He wrapped his arm around his legs and curled into a fetal position.

_The other half of her torture must be leaving us to over think the situation, _he grumbled. He struggled diligently to keep his mind blank for fear of all his doubts crushing the only thing he had left. No one would even recognize it. He'd be dead before they could know, but out of respect for himself he would prevail. _If there is a second life, then I will vow to make sure they die before anyone else can suffer._

He chuckled. It all seemed like a foolish pipe dream, but it was the only hope he had left.

Balthier was jolted awake sometime later to the sounds of naked steel clashing and the screams of dying men. He focused on the small window in the door and felt the hair on his neck stand on end when the sounds of battle abruptly died. He could just barely detect a soft padding in the hallway and he cocked his head when a shadow blocked the window.

"Balthier?"

He blinked and then he laughed. "Now I know I'm dreaming," he replied in a hoarse voice.

The lock clicked and Sard rushed in and knelt down to look him in the eye. "Don't flatter yourself. I had to kill the Occuria down here and you just happened to be along the way. Might as well drag you back, because General Al-Tamir hasn't deemed you important enough to deserve a rescue party."

"Rozarria's politics is not dissimilar from Archadia's," Balthier began in a low, thick mumble, "They point fingers at each other until the problem has passed and then sweep it under the rug, and wait for everyone to forget about it."

"Where the hell are your clothes?" Sard finally pried his arms apart and then he noticed his palms and clicked his tongue. "Classic vengeance torture: maximize pain without causing permanent damage. Your temperature is through the roof and none of your wounds are dressed. I need to get you out of here before you're cooked in your own skin. Stop clinging!" He shook Balthier's hands off and disappeared one more.

"If this is a dream, it's quite real," Balthier said.

When Sard returned, Balthier was passed out, his mouth hanging slightly ajar and his eyes were half open and unresponsive. He had found Balthier's possessions in another room, but his shirt had been torn apart, and he was forced to root around for a blanket. _God damned Occuria beat him to within an inch of his life. He's not quite as weak as I presumed._ Sard shook his head at the hume as he pulled on the pants and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. He couldn't wait to get this man off his paws, but he as an insignificant nuisance in comparison to the Occuria.

Sard tried to ignore the worry that clawed at his mind when he started carrying Balthier through the hallways. _He's too light and he's burning up with fever. How perfect that he dies on the ride back from infection. If that does happen, I could easily use his death as an albatross for the General to continue to aid me in my fight against the Occuria._

The creature sighed when he saw more men in armor taking no heed of the bloodbath in the hall and charged with their swords raised. Sard set Balthier down more gently than he thought he had in him and quickly unsheathed the sword of the gods, running the first man through easily and pulling it out to cut the legs out from beneath the other man. He picked up Balthier yet again and carefully stepped around the bloody mess of at least half a dozen corpses lining the hall.

The next thing Balthier could recall, he was suddenly lying back on a much softer surface than what the cell provided. He opened his eyes fractionally to suddenly see Sard leaning over him, before something wonderfully cool touched his forehead and he sighed with relief. It was after a few minutes of this that he realized he could hardly feel his hands or the stitched gash on his shoulder and he craned his head for a better view only to have Sard push him back down.

"Stay still before I am inclined to give a bruise on your head to add to your collection of injuries. I put poultices on your shoulder and palm, which will keep them clean and hopefully take away some of the pain," Sard said as he continued to sponge his partner's head.

The Prince-consort did not know how to respond to this and he merely laid his head back down and allowed himself to drift back to sleep. Darkness swirled around him, but on occasion he would open his eyes to find the ground whipping by at a rapid pace beneath him, he felt the rhythmic bob and jolt of the cerose as he ran through the forest, and oddly enough he felt the warm solid wall that was Sard, who acted as a support and balance for Balthier to lean against throughout the journey.

Balthier was not sure how long they had been traveling, but it seemed that in every instance he woke up they were constantly on the move. A small smile twitched on his face at the very familiarity of it. How so very like Sard. Although the constant bob and jolt of the cerose made for a not especially comfortable ride, he still marveled over the fact that he was experiencing very little pain, besides the penetrating ache of his bones and the occasional twinge in his palms.

The next time he woke up the atmosphere and setting had changed. There was no bob in the stride of the cerose, there was no Sard to lean against, and there was no wind rushing past his face. He attempted to open his eyelids, but they felt like heavy weights. He could feel his body being jostled as it was moved, and although he could barely feel the cloth beneath him, he was almost certain they were carrying him by stretcher.

Voices flew over his head, some familiar and others not quite so much. He only managed to catch scattered bits of conversation, but his lips quirked pleasantly when he recognized one voice as Sari's.

"By the gods, what did the—"

"—torture of the most painful—"

"—n't repair the damage to his ha—"

"—ake the stitches out and heal his sh—"

"—ust control the fever first."

"You worry about his shoulder, I'll worry abo—"

"—he's coming out of it."

"Balthier, can you hear me?"

He desperately wanted to acknowledge Sari, but he couldn't move his painfully chapped lips anymore than his eyelids and so he simply lie there and continued to breath.

"Don't worry, Balthier, we'll heal you back to the way you were," Sari said.

Suddenly he felt hands on his body as he was lifted into the air and down onto a bed. He could not keep the sigh from escaping as his aching bones and muscles sank into the soft contours of the mattress. It was barely another minute before he was once more blissfully passed out in a void of comfort and painlessness.

As he slowly came to, he inhaled a larger breath and was astonished at the tightness in his chest, as if it was the first breathe of oxygen he had ever tasted. His eyelids no longer felt like ten ton weights and he was able to open them wide enough to see the room he had used at the Rozarrian palace take shape before his eyes. Light spilling in from the windows showed it was at the very beginning of sunrise, and as he looked around the room he could not keep from chuckling.

Sard lie with his back turned to Balthier on the couch. Usually the creature was up yawning and stretching before dawn, but apparently even exhaustion could take a toll on him. He turned his head to find a mass of dark strands splayed out near his shoulder and he shook his head in dismay. _She's pregnant. She shouldn't be sleeping in a chair, slumped over onto a bed. Such a stubborn woman, _he mused.

He reached over to gently shake her but he was surprised when the stitches in his shoulder didn't pull. He twisted his head to look at his shoulder and was surprised to see they were no longer there. The wound had clearly been healed appropriately by a spell, but the lack of a proper healing spell from the start insured he would care a long, red scar there for the rest of his days. Balthier next lifted his hands so that he could get a good look at them and sighed when he saw they were still bound thickly with linen. Bones were still something the mages had yet to discover how to heal and whole chunks had been driven out of his palms with a spike and hammer.

With a heavy feeling of misery, he reached over and gingerly touched Sari's head until she stirred. She blinked owlishly, but her confusion lasted only a moment before her face broke into a smile, "Oh good, you're awake."

Movement from across the room drew their attention in time to see Sard whip his head around to stare at the pair of them. "About time! I was ready to abandon you if you didn't come around."

He saw Sari roll her eyes and she whispered, "He worked awfully hard to beat your fever. The doctor was really afraid you might not make it."

Balthier narrowed his eyes, glancing between them and asked, "How long was I out?"

"Six days," Sard replied. "It took me four days to drag you back across the border. I thought you'd die on the journey, but you surprised me again. I would've been pissed if I'd wasted my time dragging you along if you'd kicked it."

Balthier nodded stoically but after a moment he could no longer keep the smirk from his face. "Thank you."

Sard scowled. "You have intrinsic value."

"Of course I do," he replied. The amusement disappeared. "What's been happening? I doubt my condition was all that worried you."

An entirely silent conversation suddenly took place right before his eyes. Sard, who was standing at the foot of his bed with a knowing smile, deliberately switched his eyes to Sari. She also turned from Balthier to glare at the creature. Balthier thought he saw the barest shake of her head, but it seemed Sard had long made his decision.

"The dragon ran away from me and is now wreaking havoc across the countryside," Sard said and Sari sighed heavily in exasperation.

"That's why Al-Tamir gave me no thought," Balthier finished.

Sard gave a bark of laughter. "His time and men would have been better spent rescuing you. As it is, the dragon barely has a scratch and the casualties are in the three hundreds. There isn't a single weapon they have that can penetrate those scales. Futile."

"And you're just going to love holding that sword out of Al-Tamir's reach, aren't you?"

It was subtle, but Balthier was certain he saw Sard's smug grin falter. He felt his alarm heighten and he leaned forward to peer at him suspiciously.

This time Sari chose not to stay silent. "Sard, don't."

"He'll find out eventually," the creature said with a growing smile. She insisted on shaking her head, but Sard simply brushed past it. "The dragon is heading north, towards Dalmasca."

Balthier sat up in alarm, but Sari placed a hand on his shoulder and cast a venomous glare at Sard. "No, Balthier, you need your rest. You almost died and your body needs to recover before you fight again."

"The Occuria are not going to wait for me to recover," he said in exasperation. "Bring me Al-Tamir." Sard's face twisted from the grin to a moody sneer. "Now, Sard!"

Once he had left, Sari turned her full attention to him. "Don't do this. I know that sword is powerful but you can't just run off and expect to take it head on."

Balthier laughed. "Sari, how often have I run off half-cocked? I need to do this. And don't worry, I have a plan."

Sard returned with Al-Tamir after only a few minutes.

"Lord Bunansa, it's a relief to see you doing bett—"

"Cut the false sincerity. We both know you had little concern for his welfare," Sard said as he went over to stand on one side of Balthier's bed.

The Prince-consort remained silent throughout the exchange, but not without sending a disapproving stare Sard's way to keep him from cutting in with anymore nasty remarks. After a minute of this, he finally turned back to the General and said, "I don't care that you didn't come to get me. What's done is done! What I need you to do now is smuggle us into Rabanastre."

His statement was met with a shocked silence as they all stared at him as if he'd gone mad. All but Sard who merely scoffed at the idea, "Why? So you can have a secret rendezvous with your wife?"

Balthier shut his eyes and took several deep breaths to control his temper before he opened them again and said, "We obviously need an airship to counter the dragon. General, I would appreciate it if you could disguise your visit as a helping gesture to keep the dragon at bay, and Sard and I will stowaway aboard your ship and then sneak out at the right moment."

Al-Tamir stared at him, completely flabbergasted. "Wha-why do you need to steal a ship in Rabanastre? We have plenty of ships here you could—" But Balthier was already shaking his head.

"No. None of your transports are agile enough and don't have a wide enough roof for what I want to attempt. We're going to get the _Strahl._"

After a brief nap, Balthier found himself unwrapping the bandages held tight around his hand, smiling to himself with renewed hope and vigor. He grimaced when he finally pulled it off and saw that the skin had been cauterized to prevent further infection, but he could still see right through both his palms.

"This is stupid."

"I hate to disappoint you, Sari, but I'm really not seeking your approval on this. I won't stand for any other ship."

"What the hell do you think Ashe is going to do when her beloved late husband's ship is stolen?"

"She will do everything in her power to get it back," he replied without hesitation.

"A meeting with her will be inevitable!"

"Yes, but I will get to choose when and where it happens. She can't meet with me if I don't take the ship back to Rabanastre. I will have to abandon it somewhere remote," He said.

"Yes, that won't appear suspicious at all," Sari said with an annoyed frown. "She will figure it out eventually. You wouldn't have married her if she was completely witless."

"No, no I wouldn't have." He closed his eyes momentarily to mutter the healing spell the gods had given him. A tingling sensation in his palms gave him hope it was working and when he opened his eyes again, he grinned in relief when he saw patches of white skin now covering the gaping holes. The skin was puckered and slightly off-color, but if that was the only scar he would get for that wound then he would be pleased. He refocused his gaze back on Sari and said, "I will need you to help me keep her off my trail. If push comes to shove, tell her the truth. With any luck, I should be too far away for her to try and snatch me back before I can complete my task."

Sari closed her eyes and let out a shuddering breath. "All right, I will do this for you. You will not forget this favor. I don't fancy being the obstacle between an upset queen and you."

Balthier grinned. "I can understand. She is not a woman to be trifled with. Sard, are you ready to go?"

The creature had been standing there the whole time remaining amazingly silent as he shoved food into his pack and made sure he had enough bolts for his crossbow. Slinging his sword over his shoulder he said with a hiss, "Yessss!"

"Then let's get out of here," Balthier replied, after holstering his gun and also slinging his sword around his back with his pack. As they walked down the hall, he could not keep one thought from running through his mind: _I can't believe I'm going to steal my own ship._


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note: **I hate to say this, but you probably shouldn't expect another chapter for a couple of weeks. Finals coming up.

**Chapter 26**

"Vaan, please! I really think you and everyone else down there should evacuate to Lowtown or the Palace," Ashe said in exasperation to the comlink on her desk.

"Aww, Ashe, don't worry about us. We can take care of ourselves. We're just going to be in the hangar_._ We need to get the _Strahl_ its tune up and work on our own ship. We want to be ready to help!"

"Vaan, you shouldn't take this threat lightly. You've only just recovered from a serious injury. I want to be safe. I appreciate your offer of help, but you are a citizen, not a soldier. I'm obliged to see your safety before your service."

"C'mon, we all fought against that dragon in the Golmore Jungle! We can help! Don't forget to call us when you need us," Vaan replied happily and with a buzz of static, the line went dead.

Ashelia did not refrain from hiding her frustration when she clenched her fists and growled. _We did face some pretty tough monsters during the hunts. I suspect they will be fine, _she tried to reassure herself, but the same uneasy feeling she had before Balthier had gone was plaguing her now.

She forced herself to step away from her desk and began smoothing the cloth of her dress as though she were trying to soothe her own worries. _No, Ashe, you do not need to send a squad of soldiers to ensure their safety. They are more powerful than even all of those soldiers combined. If they cannot be safe, then no one can be and no amount of soldiers you send will make them safer, _she kept telling herself, but idea of sending Geoffrey and a couple of soldiers over there was becoming more appealing by the second.

"Geoffrey has more important matters to attend to than your personal whims. Your people need you, now pull yourself together."

_You also thought Bal—_, Ashe forcefully cut her own thoughts and winced when she felt a twinge in her stomach. She wasn't certain if it was the pregnancy or something else, but when her thoughts were particularly dark and turbulent, her body would begin to ache. For the health of her child alone, she had vigorously worked to keep a positive attitude. The doctor reminded her that stress would affect the baby and implored everyone else to not push her blood pressure.

It was partly this that made Ashelia tell her people the news of the pregnancy right after she informed them of the dragon running amok. Tension had been escalating the last month: Balthier's death, the council stubbornly standing against her on every issue, the onset of war in Rozarria, and finally her failure to prevent that. The days had started to feel like those one's they had lived just after Rasler's death, and she refused to stand silent any longer while a pall of despair hung over the city.

She was relieved to hear that it had done the trick in lifting their spirits. The dragon may be bearing down on them, but the queen was with child! Their country would still stand its ground despite the hard times.

As much as it pleased her to see the optimism, worry tugged at her heart. She and the council had received the detailed reports of the result of the Vance-Rozarria war, and she now felt considerably more pity for her friend Al-Cid's country than previously. Vance had seen devastating losses in their ranks, but then the dragon had appeared from their side and proceeded to decimate Rozarria's army. Soon after it had moved onto the country's cities and citizens, and like a storm there seemed to be no way to stop it. Ashe had winced at the number of casualties which increased with every report, so she was alarmed when Rozarria started sending her warnings that it was heading to Dalmasca.

_Thank you, Rozarria, _she silently mused, _As little as I thought of you for pursuing that war, your friendship with me never faltered._

A knock on her door shook her from her thoughts and she asked, "To whom am I speaking with?"

"Lieutenant Auberon, Your Highness."

"Come in," she replied. He let himself in and bowed. "What news do you have?"

"All of Rabanastre has been evacuated and many people from the surrounding countryside have also temporarily moved into Lowtown."

"Very good. Anything else?" She asked.

"Yes, we have received a message from Rozarria saying that they are flying up to provide assistance in waylaying the dragon," he replied.

Ashe narrowed her eyes in puzzlement. "Why would they expend excess forces to help us when many of their cities and towns have been left in ruins? That makes little sense."

"Perhaps they want to maintain goodwill towards their allies?" Geoffrey suggested with a dubious shrug of his shoulders. "They did say that in their work against the dragon, they discovered a way to prevent it from causing too much destruction. Unfortunately, there's still no way of controlling what direction it will go."

Ashe nodded. It continued to bother her, but after a moment she sighed in resignation. _So little seems to be making sense anymore._

oOOo

Where they sat, all was silent save the irritable thrum of the engine. Balthier swallowed the nervous feeling developing in his stomach and he briefly wondered if Sard and Sari's throats were also locked. Sard was unusually quiet, sitting as motionless as a statue with his eyes closed. Only the slight rise and fall of his chest suggested he was still alive.

He felt Sari shift beside him and was surprised when the words suddenly started spilling from his mouth. "For the gods' sake, Sari, go sit in a seat more suitable for a pregnant woman."

"I'm fine! I'm not even showing yet," she replied

When he felt guilt welling up in his chest, he deliberately stamped it out. _She needs to stop clinging to me and she needs to take care of herself. _"Why should it matter whether you're showing? If you were Ashe, I'd be telling her the same thing," he said.

Sari glared at him. "If Ashe were here instead of me, you'd be in much more plush conditions and none of this would be happening," she said.

"Sari, it's important that you go be in comfort while you can. You might think it a wonderful opportunity to catch another man while you're up there, since as far as you should be concerned, we're all dead! And the dead do not suffer the living."

Her eyes glinted like chips of ice as she studied him. Then, without a word, she grabbed her violin case and suitcase and departed. Balthier watched her go with a schooled face. He jumped when he turned back to find Sard giving him an equally unreadable stare. "I have my existence under wraps to protect my own wife. Sari should not suffer anymore than her," he said. _Why am I explaining myself to him?_

"This wouldn't be a problem if you humes never made attachments," Sard replied before he closed his eyes again, and resumed what Balthier took to be meditation.

_It was the right thing to do, _he mused even as he resigned himself to a deathly silent flight.

oOOo

Tension hung thick in the air when Rozarria's reinforcements finally arrived the next morning. The dragon was still south of the city, rampaging through an abandoned village with a squad of soldiers attempting to monitor it as inconspicuously as possible. Despite how close it was, Ashe insisted on being at the port when they landed.

Ashe remembered the flagship from the final battle that had been fought over Rabanastre, but she was taken aback when General Al-Tamir and a squad of troops were the only people who exited the craft. She set her expression into that of a small smile and nodded at Al-Tamir when he bowed and said, "Your Majesty, Queen Ashelia Bunansa, it is an honor to be in your presence once more."

"Thank you, General, and allow me to give you my utmost gratitude for being here to aide against the dragon. How fair your lands after the attack?" She asked.

"As well as can be expected. The recovery of our cities and people has already begun and we may spare our forces to ensure the rest of the world does not meet the same misfortune," he replied. "But mightn't we spare the formalities? I would prefer we move to a much more protected position for your sake, your Highness."

She conceded the need for urgency but something still puzzled her. "Is there no one else with you? I was certain Lord Al-Cid Margrace would at least accompany you back to his official post here."

"In this time of crisis, he felt it more appropriate that he remain with the royal family. At least until the dragon is eradicated," Al-Tamir said.

"I can understand that," she replied, sitting down in the hovercraft that would be speeding them back to the palace. It was as everyone was climbing into the craft that she noticed Sari had apparently taken the opportunity to head north while it was still available. Sari noticed her attention and nodded solemnly to her.

The ride back to the palace was surprisingly silent, but every time a question would bubble up, the queen would yank it back before it could leave her lips. _Strange things have been happening of late, but it does not mean that the General has all the answers to the questions that have arisen._

It was as they were exiting the vehicles that a terrible roar shook the ground from beneath their feet.

"RRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOAAAAARGH!"

"Run, your Highness," Al-Tamir said and gave her a not especially gentle push toward the door.

Before she ran inside, she looked back and gasped at the monstrosity winging above the city. It folded its wings into a dive and swooped down just above the spires of the palace, but it was still close enough that they all felt its powerful back draft nearly sweep them off their feet. Ashe felt the warm sandstone scrape against her palm as she tried to find her footing again, and then she gasped in surprise when Geoffrey suddenly grabbed her.

"Hurry, my Lady! Find your way to the cellar! You should be safe there," he said after he led her inside and rushed back out into the punishing sunlight.

She chose not to argue this as she normally would have and made her way along the passages, down toward the cellars where much of the palace staff had taken refuge in lieu of the now very crowded Lowtown. Her breath hissed out from between her teeth when she felt the entire palace tremble with the pounding from the dragon.

_Oh gods, have I sent them all to their doom? Geoffrey? General Al-Tamir? Stay safe, _Ashe silently pleaded when she finally slipped down the stairs and through the doors into the windowless storage area.

oOOo

General Al-Tamir's flagship was, for the moment, abandoned in the hangar where all was quiet. It was disturbed only by the soft whirring of motors as the steps of the ship were lowered so that Balthier and Sard stepped out.

"You need to wear this," the creature suddenly said, pulling out his old helmet from his pack and tossing it to him. "Now that we're in familiar territory, we shouldn't risk anyone recognizing you."

Balthier was momentarily stunned and barely heard a word Sard said. He was home. This air? This burnt air was Rabanastre. The rustic sandstone of the desert was dim and dull in the closed area, but it was unlike any other hangar in the world. _Gods, I am actually home._ He was forced to shove the thought away immediately and he finally nodded at Sard, grabbing his helmet and forcing it on his head. _Now is not the time to relish. This is only a short visit and you need to stay focused._

He was surprised to see the port seemed to be completely empty, but then he scolded himself, _Of course it's empty! Ashe would have evacuated the city in anticipation of the attack._ If the silence was anything to go by, then the dragon had not yet arrived, but it did little to soothe his heightened senses. He looked back at Sard who was giving him a drab look that clearly said, _Stop dancing around and let's do what we came here to do. _His calm presence was soothing in the tempest of emotions waging in him.

Balthier's felt his heartbeat skyrocket when he heard a disturbing clinking of tools, and then the familiar loud voices of Vaan and Penelo as they sniped at each other.

"Do ya think Ashe would mind if we tuned up the engine?"

"Vaan, I wouldn't do that if I were you. I'd leave that specialization to Nono or Fran."

"Oh, c'mon, Penelo? How am I going to learn to fix the engines of my own ship if I don't know anything?"

"Then make Fran teach you! Don't just go tinkering around in there for no reason!"

It was all too tempting to step in and snipe at Vaan for presuming to touch his precious ship's engine without consulting at least Fran first, and he had to flatten himself against the wall just outside his ship's hangar door to compose himself. Sard took the opportunity to lean around him and take in the picture before him.

"We have to be quiet," Balthier said in a barely audible whisper. "Fran is a viera and she would hear our conversation if she's outside the ship."

Sard pulled back behind the wall discreetly. "The viera?"

"Yes. She's…the strongest. If you cause them more injury than simply stunning them, I will personally skin you alive," he whispered.

"Relax. I know all the tricks to incapacitate without hurting a target," Sard replied.

"You focus on Fran. I'll put Vaan and Penelo to sleep with a spell. If you come across a brown-furred moogle, be sure to drag him aboard. I'll need a navigator," Balthier said, feeling the sweat trickling down his forehead from the nerves.

"Ready?" Sard asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Count to three and I should have a sleeping spell ready by then."

There was a moment of silence as Balthier began muttering the spell, then Sard strode in nonchalantly. Penelo and Vaan almost immediately stopped their banter and turned to him with puzzled looks on their faces.

"Err…who are you?"

Balthier had left his own hiding spot and sent the sleeping spell towards the two orphans just as Sard pulled his sword out.

"Huh?"

"Wha—"

Penelo and Vaan had not even started to scramble for their own weapons before the spell fell on them and they were slumping where they stood. Fran tried to fend off the creature with the wrench, but he whipped it from her hand and brought the sword down on the back of her neck. Balthier could not keep from flinching as she crumpled at the creature's feet and silently said, _I'm sorry, Fran!_

Sard picked the viera up and stowed her behind a crate and then he went back to stash the orphans too. "When you are finished standing there, I would suggest you help me or hunt down that moogle you were talking about!"

It was enough to shake Balthier from his stupor and he climbed aboard the ship, pulling off his helmet and shouting, "Nono! Nono, are you in here?"

"Engine room, kupo," a voice trailed from below and Balthier dashed down there. He almost came to another complete halt when he found the moogle hovering at roughly his eye level working on a part of the engine that he had peeled the plate back from. "What do you ne—" Nono turned around and his eyes widened to saucers. The tool slipped from his paw and clattered to the floor in his shock.

Balthier took the opportunity to rush across the rest of the distance and pin the moogle against the engine. "Ba-Ba-Balthier! No, it can't be. Pleeeeeeeease let me go!"

"Shhh shhh, Nono, it is me. I am not dead, but you have to be quiet, Nono! As far as you're concerned, I'm still dead. Now, I'm going to take my hand away. Please do not scream," Balthier said as calmly as he could, pulling his hand away from the poor moogle's mouth and then finally backing up a few paces. "Listen, Nono, I need your help. I have to take the _Strahl_ up and destroy that dragon. You have to be my navigator."

"Why me? Why not Fran, kupo?" The moogle asked, tilting its head up inquisitively at him.

"I need to keep my identity concealed, even from Fran. If I encounter one of them then I can dismiss my personal mission altogether. Please, it just has to be this way," he said and he let his head fall in defeat. He truly did not have the energy to argue this point.

"Very well. I will assist in your efforts as a navigator," the moogle said.

"Balthier, did you find him?" Sard's voice carried down to the engine room.

"Yes, we're coming up."

He turned around and found himself face-to-face with the creature. "Good because the Occuria is attacking the palace."

Balthier shoved Sard into the wall as he pushed past him and dashed to the cockpit. "We still need to warm the engines for five minutes before we can depart. Be sure you have everything, Sard!"

oOOOo

Ashe was not sure how long she had stood by the door to the cellar, waiting for news, but it felt like an eternity. She had to close her eyes and inhale a deep breath every time the walls of her palace shook. A deathly silence filled the air after the latest tremor and it took her several minutes when she suddenly realized the palace was no longer trembling. _But what did that mean? _She asked herself. _Was everyone dead or did they manage to stop the dragon?_

She very nearly jumped in surprise when she heard the clatter of footsteps on stone and smiled when Geoffrey tore around the corner. The expression on his face wiped the smile away immediately and she asked, "Lieutenant, what's wrong?"

He panted for breath for a moment and she could see his eyes roving across the floor as though he was searching for his answer there. Finally it came: "Someone's stealing the _Strahl_!"

Ashe felt her blood run cold as she stared at Geoffrey. _Who would be foolish enough to steal my husband's ship? _She rushed past her guard, completely disregarding the danger, and looked for the first window that overlooked the port and she stared out desperately, hoping it wasn't true. But there it was, hovering over the city and she felt her heart plunge.

She furrowed her brow in confusion when she saw it turn toward the palace, but a sudden darkness let her know the dragon was still in the city. There was a flash from the ship and tiny explosions showed that whoever possessed the _Strahl_ was shooting at the dragon that now turned to focus its attention on it. Another volley of shots flew into it and it roared in annoyance, once again taking to its wings and flying northward. The _Strahl_ did not hesitate to follow.

_It must be Fran, Vaan, and Penelo. There can be no other explanation. _This_ is why they refused to evacuate the city, _Ashe reassured herself and a small smile graced her lips. Then she turned to Geoffrey and said, "Scramble our fighters. I want them in pursuit of the _Strahl_. Try to contact the pilot; I would like to speak with them."

"Yes, your Highness, but we've already tried to raise them and failed. They have deliberately jammed their communication," Geoffrey said.

"Try again!" He seemed surprised by her abrupt manner, but she did not back down. He nodded and left her to stare out the window as the dragon and her late husband's beloved ship grew smaller with the distance.

oOOo

After a couple of hours of chasing the dragon across the desert, Balthier no longer felt comfortable he was safely unidentifiable in his ship and pulled Sard's helmet back on. As much as they chased the dragon, their fleet continued to grow with ships not only from Dalmasca, but from Rozarria and Archadia as well. And they were constantly trying to raise the _Strahl_. He would press a button to slice off communication every time, but he had his voice mimicker on hand should the need to use it ever arise.

All the while, Sard paced up and down the cockpit, completely on edge. "How can we expect to corner this dragon when all we've managed is to chase it?!" He growled from behind Balthier.

Balthier shook his head at his response and said, "We cannot afford it to take any innocent people hostage or cause anymore damage. I'll send you out on top to bait it soon."

"Excellent," the creature replied and then he came up behind him and leaned over to see all the ships that had gathered around them. "Can you think of a way to lose them? I don't care much for a crowd when I'm fighting."

"Not that I—" Balthier's eyes rolled up into his head and he could not keep a smug grin from arcing across his face. "As a matter of fact, I do have an idea. If I'm not mistaken, my ship should be the only one able to fly over Jagd. We can chase the dragon out to sea."

_I knew there was another reason to steal my ship back, _Balthier mused, but the smile faded when he thought back to all those years ago during his wife's strange journey. "You have to be quick though. I know Archadia had at least an entire fleet outfitted to fly over Jagd. It was destroyed, but I cannot tell you how many they were able to alter with their technology."

"'Tis a trivial matter, but if they do become an irritant, I may force you to stuff that radio down your throat and speak to them," Sard said. His voice had become increasingly deeper and more guttural as he spoke, ending in what sounded like a growl. His paws were clenched and Balthier could see that adrenaline was pumping through his veins as he mentally and physically prepped himself for the fight.

"If it comes to that, then I will. 'Tis a trivial a matter, but I do have a device that can hide my voice," he replied.

"Whatever it takes."

Three hours later found Sard slumped restlessly in one of the two chairs behind Balthier as the Prince-consort concentrated on following the dragon, even as it twisted and turned to get away from them. A particularly sharp turn caused the creature to groan and he snarled at Balthier, "Who the hell taught you to fly?"

"It would be amusing to see how you faired at the controls," Balthier shot back, knowing perfectly well his partner would never be able to fly the ship to save his life. _Not that I'd let him near the controls of my baby, anyway, _he told himself, sparing a glare back at Sard. His gaze softened when he noticed the creature really did look ill and he was clenching his teeth as though he were trying to keep from vomiting. "I would appreciate it if you could relocate to the restroom if you feel queasy, as I will personally see that your remains are scattered across the Sandsea if you vomit in my cockpit."

"I'm fine," Sard muttered.

"You had fair warning," Balthier replied. "You might want to prepare yourself if you haven't. We're over the Cerobi Steppe! Balfonheim is less than an hour away."

"About time!" Sard jumped to his feet and headed out of the cockpit. As they had wasted away the hours, they had discussed their strategy and thus far it seemed best the creature risk his life balancing on top of the _Strahl_ trying to land a critical blow. _It is ridiculous! There is no decent way to face this dragon unless it finishes with its boycott of the ground, and it knows perfectly well Sard has a chance to kill it. Three of the Occuria are dead, it is no mean stretch to think it won't die either, no matter how massive and powerful it is, _Balthier thought, lamenting the weakness in their strategy, but it was all they had.

"Captain Bunansa?" Balthier glanced over at Nono, who glanced away from the controls with his big brown eye to focus on him. "I admire your friend's spirit, but I fear this is a bad plan."

"I don't like it much either, Nono. But it will have to do. Sard's an amazing creature. If anyone can defeat this monster, he can," the Prince-consort replied, his attention now focused back in front him.

It seemed like no time at all they were skimming over the water of the sea in front of them. Balthier's eyes flickered to his radio, listening to the babble on the other end until it suddenly fizzled and died. He grinned and picked up the radio to speak to Sard, though he took no chances and disguised his voice, "Sard, we're in Jagd. The dragon will have to get past us if it wishes to return to land. Now's your chance!"

There was a pause on the other end of the line and Balthier frowned in puzzlement before he remembered that Sard had listened to a completely different voice. "Hmm…okay. Try to keep the ship steady."

"Of course. Remember to tie on a safety line," the Prince-consort replied and he gave a chuckle of laughter when he got no reply.

"I'm up top. Run along side it," Sard shouted into the earpiece. He splayed his feet across the roof of the _Strahl_ and squinted as best as he could against the wind tearing at his eyes. He tightened his grip on the safety line and subconsciously unsheathed the claws in his footpaws for better traction.

The dragon was racing along, occasionally flapping its wings to maintain height, but then it noticed the figure atop the ship that was slowly inching closer. It gave a bellow and then tilted its wings to loop and head straight for the figure on the roof. Sard pulled out the sword and held up a paw in a vain attempt to keep the window from tearing at his face.

_Damn, it's going to snatch me off the ship before I can even get in a decent hit. Miss the teeth and aim for the neck, _he willed to himself and tensed when the dragon swooped in, heading straight for the creature, its mouth open wide like a steel trap waiting to snap him up. Sard jumped out of the way, but the vicious wind sent him off balance and he only managed to land a single cut on its thigh as it rushed by.

_Thunk!_ Sard's curse of misfortune was abruptly cut off when the tail whipped by and he barely managed to duck beneath before it sent him off the edge.

_I'll be dancing like this for eternity if we keep this up. It will never give me a clean swipe, _he thought to himself as he slowly stood back up. The creature turned toward the horizon and watched as the sun sunk lower, streaking the sky in vibrant yellow and orange. _Perhaps an hour left in the day. It would be suicide to continue this fight after nightfall, and the rest of the world will have tracked us down and dragged us off the ship before we'd manage to get another crack at this. _He ground his teeth together as he thought. A flicker of movement caught his eye and he scowled upon seeing that the dragon was returning when an idea suddenly lit in his head and he grinned.

"I need you to shoot the dragon so that it flies at a level below your ship," Sard suddenly pressed suddenly said and with a swipe of his sword he was cut free from the safety line.

"What? Why?"

"I have an idea."

"It would please me to hear it."

"Just do as I say!"

"As you wish."

Balthier chewed on his lip at this new turn of events wondering what card Sard had hidden up his sleeve, even as he complied with the request seeing that the shots were aimed to lower its height. It appeared to be on a trajectory that would swoop just beneath and off to the side of them. _On a level below the ship? Obviously it's not to strike it with the sword or he—_ Realization hit him and he scrambled for the radio, pulling it to his lips and said, "No, no, Sard. Wait—!"

Too late. Sard had jumped.


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note: **Terribly sorry this was such a long wait. This is the first time in weeks I've had personal time to write.

**Chapter 27**

Sard had often heard of the ridiculous feelings that accosted humes and other sentients in tense situations, so he was more than surprised when he suddenly understood precisely what they meant. The moment his paws left the surface of the ship, he felt his breath snatched away. His stomach seemed to fall faster than the rest of him and a cold sweat broke out all over his body as he slipped through the great expanse of air. Time seemed to slow to a crawl and he glanced down between his paws and saw the sparkle of the dark blue ocean that appeared to be miles below him with nothing to stop his fall.

Then time sped up and he huffed upon feeling his feet scrape against the backside of the dragon. He tumbled head over heels over its bony ridges before he finally lashed out and dug his claws into its side. It roared and deliberately folded its wings into a steep dive to shake him loose. Sard gritted his teeth and his eyes rolled at the sensation of his stomach sinking, and then the dragon pulled up, just skimming the water's surface. It glanced back again, and when he still wasn't shaken off it rolled until Sard was dangling.

_If I continue to just hang here, I'll eventually lose my grip and I'll never get another chance, _Sard thought. He sucked in a breath of air and used every ounce of strength he possessed to begin pulled himself along the dragon's flank. Each paw was carefully placed lest the dragon suddenly shake.

There was one precarious moment when the beast shook while Sard was attempting to find another hold, and suddenly he was an instant away from slipping in the air and thousands of feet to the water below. His mouth went dry and he was certain black spots were beginning to fill his vision. _No, I have to hold it together! _Against the pull of gravity and the wind, Sard got his handhold back. He rested there for a moment to regain his wits, surprised o find he had been holding his breath and that he was now completely soaked in sweat. His limbs started trembling from the exertion. _Come on, you son of a bitch, you're going to have to get a grip if you intend to finish this._

It felt like an eternity before he finally reached its heavily muscled arms, and the moment he placed a paw there it lashed its limbs violently and pulled up in the air to do a loop. Sard groaned at the strain he was beginning to feel in his arms. When the dragon had straightened out yet again, he reached for its bicep and pulled himself over the hump of the muscle till he reached its neck. Now at its throat, he finally pulled the sword out and plunged it deep into the tissue there. Warm blood gushed out of the wound and it gave a startled, pained, and enraged shriek that pierced his ear drums. Sard dropped lower on the neck till he was perched on its shoulder, and pushed the sword straight with all the strength he had left.

The Dragon pulled up abruptly and roared to the heavens, desperately flapping its wings to keep its height even as its own head began to sag from the blood loss. It was beginning to fall.

_Once more will end this, _Sard thought and dug the sword into another part of its neck, and then he pulled it out and sheathed it. He glanced down nervously at the water below. He hadn't given a single thought to getting off the dragon, but solely on what he could do to defeat it.

The dragon gave a last bellowing scream, only managing another feeble flap of its wings before gravity finally won over it and pulled it toward the water below. The sudden drop of height jarred Sard, and his paws slipped from the red plates of the dragon's back. He gasped at the sudden loss of contact and his eyes widened at the feel of nothing but air all around him. His mind felt pleasantly blank for reasons he could not explain as the water came closer and closer. The dragon's body twisted and turned just above him. This kicked his brain into gear once more and he attempted to control his descent by spreading his arms wide and positioning himself flat in the air as though he were lying on the ground.

The dull roar of the wind blowing through his ears, the numb acceptance, the flap of his clothes in the wind, and the horrible throb of his heart came together in a complete suspension of reality. Never had he come close to feeling such sensations and to feel it now almost made him believe that it was all simply a dream to be woken from, even as his mind chastised him for such idiotic notions. Light filled his vision as he stared down below him, shaking his head in wonderment at the warm, peaceful light that glinted and bobbed, almost invitingly.

He thought the dragon might be ahead of him now. His chest was painfully tight as he struggled to breathe; black spots filled his vision even as he struggled to keep his eyes wide open. The warm light transformed. Blue was all that filled his vision.

_Crack!_

Somehow he had righted himself to a standing position. Spume flew into the air and broiled the surface at the entrance of the dragon's tomb, and then a terrible, stinging pain fell over him and he abruptly went blind.

Balthier's heart stopped after he realized what Sard was going to do and his mouth hung open in utter shock. He eased the _Strahl _back to almost a hover when the dragon suddenly passed by just underneath him. He squinted his eyes trying to catch a sign of the creature, and he finally sucked in a welcome breath of fresh air when he saw a misplaced brown blob clinging to the dragon's back.

"Crazy bastard," Balthier muttered, shaking his head and then he reached forward and pushed down the throttle to begin the pursuit. Once again his flying instincts bubbled to the surface and the brief moment of fear he'd felt vanished with the moment.

"He's like you, Captain, kupo," Nono said, as he punched in some coordinates on the controls.

Balthier drew his lips into a thin line. He had been ready to vehemently disagree, but then the instance of the _Bahamut_ loomed up in his mind and he now understood how his friends felt when he stayed aboard. As necessary as the action had been to save lives, he knew it had made Ashe feel utterly powerless. This whole journey seemed to be an exercise for him to realize just how little control he had on the variables in his life, and he had learned that in some cases it was best to just step out of the way. Sard was such a variable.

Then he grimly nodded in answer to Nono and said, "You're right."

Watching the dragon thrash in the air like a wyvern on a rope made Balthier wince as he imagined Sard's thrashing body. _Is it even possible we can kill this thing? Will Sard be alive by the end? _That was his most pressing concern. Whether the dragon itself lived or died, there was always a chance Sard would die with it: thrown from its back or crushed between its claws.

His heart jumped when the behavior of the dragon took a sudden turn. Its wing beats were growing in intervals and its movements, which were once sharp and alert, were now sluggish.

Rooooooooooarrrrgh!

The monster pulled up from its flight path to hover in the air. Balthier narrowed his eyes and eased down on the throttle, slowing the _Strahl_ down to its own hover not far from where the dragon struggled to stay aloft. It gave one last energetic thrash to rid it of the fly on its back before it finally fell to gravity.

"Yes, he did it!" Balthier jumped to his feet and leaned over the controls with a pleased smirk on his face. Quite possibly their most difficult obstacle was now out of their way. However his eyes continued roving the air nervously struggling to see his partner in the tangle of falling limbs. Then, just briefly, only mere seconds after it finally fell he saw a minuscule brown blob slip from the scales of the dragon and fall through the air to the water below. All he could do was follow him with his eyes. The fall seemed to take forever and then he finally hit the water, leaving a surprisingly large spume in his wake. "Oh gods…I don't know if he made it."

"Could anyone survive a fall like that?" The moogle asked with wide eyes, still staring down at the surface of the water that was still roiling from embracing the dragon into its watery grave.

"If there is any beast alive that could, it would be Sard," Balthier said and carefully steered the ship down to the surface while the water was still foaming from the dragon. "Nono, be sure to inform me of any approaching ships. I know Archadia has some that were outfitted to fly over Jagd."

"I will, sir," he replied.

Balthier slipped out of the cockpit and headed leisurely down toward the ramp. His breathing was also controlled and regulated, but he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. He pressed the button to drop the steps and he stepped down to the bottom of the platform and stare out across the surface water. From above, the surface appeared as calm and smooth as a slate, but down much closer it bobbed and shifted restlessly. Even with the activity, he could see no sign that either the dragon or Sard were alive.

"Saaaaaaaaaaard!" Balthier was unnerved that the vast expanse of ocean seemed to swallow the sound immediately. "Saaaaard! Are you out there?" Silence followed his question but his eyes continued to rove the area. "Saaaaaaard! Pause. "Saaaard!"

He wasn't sure who long he stood out there but after several calls he felt his heart sink into his stomach. _No, it can't be. He can't be dead. _And he had the sword! Only the gods knew how deep this ocean was. There was no way he'd be getting it back.

"Is he dead, Captain?" Nono asked from behind.

Balthier shook his head, but said, "Must be…"

And then Sard broke the surface several yards away.

"Sard!" The creature slipped back below again

Balthier ripped his boots off and dove into the water. It stung to open his eyes, but he could see Sard struggling weakly to keep from sinking. He kicked out to propel himself close enough to grab his wrist and pull him to the surface.

"Captain Bunansa, there are ships on the horizon!"

Balthier paid the moogle no heed as he held onto the creature with a vice grip while he gasped for air. He was relieved when he felt the stiff leather of the scabbard before he reached around and felt for the grip of the sword. He breathed a sigh of relief. "No fishing for us."

He was surprised when Sard wrapped his arms around his neck and laid his head onto his shoulder. There were no rude remarks, no violent pushes, and no snide declarations of independence. The creature just breathed. Then he said, "Get me out of here."

_Still demanding at least, _Balthier mused, but he was perturbed at Sard's willful display of vulnerability. He adjusted Sard so that he was lying on his back and struck out for the _Strahl_.

Balthier had always enjoyed swimming during the hot summer days in Archadia, but at the moment he wished for nothing more than to be on firm ground. Sard felt like a lead weight on his back and he inhaled as much water as he did air. Nono and the steps were no more than a few yards away, but every stroke of his arms made him feel like he was climbing up a cliff rather than swimming in the water. He breathed a sigh of relief when his hand gripped the first step, but it took quite a bit of leverage and strength to haul himself up, only to collapse with no avail.

"Sard, c'mon wake up! You need to pull yourself up or we're going to still be here by the time the Archadian fleet gets here," Balthier said. He thought for a moment Sard had actually fallen unconscious, until he finally shifted and dragged himself up the steps.

The Prince-consort followed his progress and eventually pulled himself up. He could see the creature's arms trembled violently, and he did not swat the moogle away when he grabbed a fistful of fur in an attempt to haul him up.

Sard slumped on the floor as soon as he was inside. Balthier frowned at him while he waited for the ramp to pull up, and then he strode off for the cockpit to set their course. He knew there was no way they'd be able to land this in Rabanastre without being forced to meet someone, whether guards or the Queen Ashelia herself, and so he was determined to run for the Rozarrian border before he abandoned his own ship.

Balthier stretched his arm out so that his fingers skimmed the wall. He tried not to think about what kind of tuning and work the _Strahl_ was going to need after this escapade, and he was determined to return and work on it himself before Vaan got his greasy gloves on it. _But that is in the future and this is now. I shouldn't get ahead of myself, _he mused, but a small smile tugged at his lips. _Just one Occuria to slay._

Balthier slid into his seat and at the crackle of the radio, pulled Sard's helmet back on.

_Calling the _Strahl, _calling the _Strahl! _Come in, _Strahl! _This is Judge-Magister Gabranth, come in!_ Instead of picking up the microphone, the prince-consort punched another button that reduced the voice to white noise.

"Nono, set the coordinates for Rusteau, Rozarria."

"Not Rabanastre?"

"Certainly not, no. My task isn't done yet."

Before they could set the coordinates, Archadia's fleet surrounded them. A pair of short range fighters swooped down, obviously meant to lead the _Strahl_ into port as an escort.

Balthier smirked. "Sorry, fellas, but it's time I made my exit." Many of the larger ships from Archadia hovered low over the water, attempting to trap them, but the _Strahl_ was a far more nimble ship than Basch gave her credit for. Pulling the thruster back, Balthier angled between the ships at a medium speed. The quarters were so close he gritted his teeth and felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck when he was almost certain the _Strahl_ would scrape on the turn. If he nudged the controls just a little too much or if any of the other ships shifted too close, they would lose a wing. Balthier was forced to turn the _Strahl_ until it was perpendicular to the water to avoid just missing a ship that had drifted into the gap meant to be their exit. But above, a spot opened and Balthier pulled the thruster back to speed through at top speed.

"Yes! We are out of here, Sard," Balthier yelled. Adrenaline rushed through his blood stream, intoxicating him with the sweet sensation of power. _Gods, I haven't felt this alive since maneuvering through the two warring fleets to get to the _Bahamut_._ The _Strahl_ was responsive to his every whim. He doubted he would ever get the pleasure of escaping such a tense situation again, and he enjoyed it for what it was worth.

Suddenly the screens flickered and he felt the engines immediately lose power, and then it all died, leaving only the hovering capabilities intact. _What the hell…?_ They were decelerating rapidly to a standstill. "Archadia must have finally put my father's Electronic Pulse weapon to use," Balthier said, mostly to himself.

"We'll never get away! They'll board for sure," Nono said, throwing him a sympathetic look.

"Not to worry," Balthier said, and he pulled a panel out from under the dash. "Having been privy to the information coming out of the Empire's laboratories, I was able to prepare for most anything the Empire would use against me." He rummaged through the bundle of wires until he finally found a button worked into a couple of wires. The moment he pressed it, the ship came alive all around him. The familiar hum of the engines returned to its steady roar and he pulled the thruster back again to speed away this time.

Once the autopilot was set, Balthier went back to where Sard was. He wrinkled his nose when he smelled the sour scent of vomit. _Well, he was airsick coming out of Rabanastre. Considering his condition when we pulled him on board, I doubt those acrobatics did him any good. Ah damn._ A strange yellow liquid was spattered all across the floor, and Sard was now lying face down in it.

Balthier bent down and gently shook his shoulder. "Sard? Sard, are you still with me?"

The creature's black eyes opened to slits. Even from just the sliver, he could see they were a far cry from the sharp and vicious killer he had been. Now they were dull from sickness. "'m sorry." The mumble was so quiet he barely heard what he said.

"Oh, please, I'll let a little vomit slide for not making me jump onto the dragon with you," Balthier said, pulling on Sard's jacket and lifting him from the floor. "Let's clean you up and then you can bunk in one of the rooms." The moogle had followed him back and he said to it, "Nono, I would be very much obliged if you could clean up that mess while I take care of him."

"Yes, sir," he replied.

Balthier dragged Sard to the bathroom more than walked him to it. The creature was as limp as a corpse, and he seemed entirely incapable of lifting his own head, but he did start showing a few signs of life along the way. The paw that was thrown over Balthier's shoulders dug its claws in and he had regained enough energy to support some of his weight.

Sard groaned intermittently until they were just outside the bathroom door and he said, "Hurry!"

The Prince-consort opened the door and Sard slid his arm from him to lunge into the bathroom and retch into the sink. "Gods, Sard, is everything all right? This can't be simple weakness."

"It is," Sard replied weakly as he panted and slid his eyes up to his. "My energy is gone. I have none. I won't start feeling better until you feed me."

"Feed you? Are you sure you won't simply vomit it back up?"

Sard furrowed his brow and growled. "I'll rebound faster and we'll be on our merry way _before_ the rest of the world catches up to us."

"That's more like the Sard I know," Balthier replied with a small smirk. "Do you need any help washing?"

"I'll manage."

Balthier had some reservations leaving Sard by himself in his current state of weakness, but he was not willingly to argue with him so long as he had enough energy to walk now at least. The Prince-consort returned to where Nono was and helped clean up the rest of the vile liquid before he headed to the galley to cook up some food. He pulled up Sard's pack and found packages of meat wrapped up in it as usual and then dug through hoping to find something that might soothe his airsickness as well. _I wonder how long these have been up here, _he thought when he pulled out a package of dry noodles.

_It'll have to do, _Balthier thought as he put a pot on to boil. While he waited for the water, he went back to the bathroom and knocked on the door. "Sard, are you still alive?" His question was met with a lively groan from the other side and he pondered going in to see just how well he was first hand, but then he dismissed it. "He has yet to drown himself. He can manage another half hour until I cook him up his food."

When Balthier was certain the stew was ready—he doubted Sard would be happy without a couple chunks of meat tossed in, he raised the pot into a container to keep it from sliding and fastened the lid on in case of turbulence. It was rare, but he did not care for their dinner to end up all over the floor.

"Sard?" A cursory glance in the other rooms likely meant he was still not done in the bathroom and Balthier headed there with mounting trepidation. _Please tell me he hasn't found a way to drown himself in the interim twenty minutes. _He knocked but did not wait for an answer before he pushed his way. "Sard!" Balthier immediately reached out to shut off the water when he saw him lying on the shower floor and he rushed to his aide. "You're destroying a lot of illusions right now. Sard, wake up!" He slapped his face sharply enough that his eyelids fluttered, but once he had them open he closed them again and turned his head away. "You can only eat if you manage to keep awake. Sard?" He shook the creature some more, but his head only lolled.

Balthier's heart had leaped into his throat and he hastily checked the creatures pulse at the base of his neck to find it pounding strong against his fingers. "I suppose it would be best to just let him rest then," he said with a sigh and then he grabbed a towel from a closet and wrapped it around him before picking him up and depositing him on his own bed.

"Goodnight, Sard," he whispered into the room before he snapped off the light and closed the door.

oooOOOooo

_I should have known Balthier would have a device that would mitigate the effects of Eletronic Impulse, _Basch thought, shaking his head in complete and utter disbelief as the _Strahl_ disappeared from the viewport.

The last twenty-four hours had been consistently full of surprises from the moment that Rozarria sent out a message warning of the dragon. It had been several years since they'd heard of anything remotely close to this monster attacking a city. Usually it was in the form of a wyvern snatching farmer's livestock and it had been closer to centuries since a monster of this sort had attacked a city in Archadia. There came no hesitation as the army and Judge-Magisters geared up to drive the dragon away from the city and their emperor, but the next surprise had come from the Lady Ashe declaring that her husband's ship had been stolen and whoever was piloting it was actively pursuing the dragon.

Basch had initially thought that Fran, Vaan, and Penelo had gotten a heroic notion to take on the dragon themselves. It certainly fell in with Vaan's character and even a little bit of Penelo's. Fran would come along if only to help pilot the ship and be sure everyone came back with all their limbs attached. That assumption had been pushed aside upon hearing the news that all three were laid up in the infirmary after being attacked in the hangar. Whoever the culprit was, they certainly knew that the more difficult opponent would be Fran.

_They would have also had to have known that Balthier's ship can fly over Jagd, _Basch thought and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. _How many people know that? _He didn't think even the Lord Larsa knew that…

"Judge-Magister Gabranth sir?" An officer stood in front of him in a salute.

"Yes?"

"The pilot on board the _Strahl_ jammed their comlink and we were unable to intercept their next coordinates," he replied stiffly.

"Damn," he said, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he turned every aspect of the situation over in his mind. "Anything else?"

"Yes, we have confirmed that the dragon was in fact slain and the slayer fell into the water. The other passengers onboard the ship rescued him before they made their escape and we managed to capture some it on a video feed."

This piqued Basch's interest and he said, "I would like to see it."

They had not been close when the recording started, making the shapes incredibly fuzzy and blurry but they could see at least two figures in the water, heading back toward the ship. A much smaller shape with longer ears waited in the doorway and Basch said, "That moogle has to be Nono. He was purported to be in the hangar, too, when the _Strahl_ was taken. Seems he was taken hostage, but…he's not tied up."

The video continued running and when Sard climbed out of the water, Basch thought, _What is that thing? I've never seen aught quite like it in my time._ His eyebrows nearly shot up into his hair when he saw Nono reach down and try to pull the creature into the ship. _So the moogle is not a captive. Does he know the thieves? _The moogle very well might. Although Balthier had left his pirating past behind, he, Fran, and Nono still likely knew some auspicious characters.

The hume in the video nimbly climbed up the stairs and immediately punched the ramp button so there was only a few seconds of footage to parse over and Basch said, "Play back the last ten seconds. Again." Pause. "Do it again."

Finally the man at the controls just allowed it to play back on a continuous loop and Basch narrowed his eyes and studied it. The ships had gotten considerably closer to the _Strahl_ in the time it took for the hume to drag the other creature out of the water, but the details were still fuzzy and the hume never did turn around and show his face. But the man's build, the way he moved, and his hair were so very familiar to Basch.

As he watched it he felt his eyes widen and his mouth fall open with the mounting suspicion. _It can't be. He died. He cannot still be alive._

"Return to Archades. We'll plan our next move while we wait for them to return to land," he replied.

"Yes, sir," the officer replied.

Basch turned around and headed back to his personal quarters on the _Valefor_. Once behind his desk he pressed a couple of buttons on a panel and spoke into voice. "I need to speak to the Emperor Larsa Solidor and Her Highness, Queen Ashelia Bunansa."

It took a few minutes for the patches to go through to the mainland, but soon he had a direct line to both Ashe and Larsa. "Your Majesties, we have pursued the thieves of the _Strahl_ to a spot 250 miles off the coast of Balfonheim and are now making our return to Archades. The dragon was apparently slain by evidence of video feed and is now resting at the bottom of the ocean. We were not, however, able to make contact with the thieves of the _Strahl_ and we were unable to see their faces, or prevent their escape. Whoever is piloting the _Strahl_, he or she knows it as well as Fran does."

"That is strange, Gabranth. Lady Ashe, do you know of anyone else that could be so familiar with the _Strahl_?" Larsa asked. He was rubbing his chin in a manner characteristic to Basch and his eyes were raised to the ceiling as if he could find the answers there.

There was a moment of silence and Basch drew his mouth into a tight line as she was forced to recall memories with her late husband. It was his fault after all and he wasn't sure Ashe had forgiven him for his, not that he could blame her. Then she sighed and opened her eyes, "No, there was no one else that he might have mentioned. He was pretty quiet about his past before we married and he did not enlighten me since."

Basch had to consciously bite his tongue to prevent it from slipping and telling Ashe how much the hume in the video looked like her late husband. _I already failed when I didn't save him, I need not bring up more painful feelings. _

"From our video feed we were able to determine that Nono is aboard with them and he appears unhurt as well. He was helping pull one person—whom is a species I have no knowledge of—into the safety of the ship," Basch replied.

"Clearly there are no intentions of a hostage situation," Larsa said, as though he were thinking allowed.

"Unless the thieves are merely biding their time," Ashe replied and Basch could sense an undertone of irritation in her voice. "They could have been merely trying to create distance between them and the fleet. They might make demands once they feel that they are no longer being harassed."

"Either way, only time will tell. We never were able to raise anyone on the _Strahl_—" Basch said.

Ashe cut him off, "Even if you did, there might not be any clue to their identity. You say they know the ship well? Well, they're bound to know of my husband's device that distorts voices. We wouldn't be able to tell their identity even then!"

"I suppose we can do nothing else until the _Strahl_ resurfaces," Larsa said. "I will be awaiting your return to Archades. At the very least we can celebrate that the dragon is slain and no longer a threat. Have a good afternoon, Lady Ashe."

Basch saw Ashe breathe a quiet sigh of relief before her eyes flickered back up to the screen and she offered a small smile. "Of course, I should let my people know. Good afternoon, Lord Larsa."

Both of the screens before Basch faded away.

**Author's Note: **Review, please?


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Note:** Sorry for another long-ish wait. I'm still stuck in the middle of my term, so the next chapter will probably be another two-week wait.

**Chapter 28**

Balthier drowsed for a couple of hours in the cockpit after he ate his own meal. With the coordinates set, they could do little more than wait as the _Strahl_ glided over the smooth expanse of ocean. The sun had long fallen behind the horizon before Sard reappeared.

The Prince-consort did not even turn at the sound of the door to the cockpit sliding open, but he knew instantly it was Sard from the click of his bare claws against the steel panels. "Sleep well?" He was met by silence until he finally opened his eyes to look over at Sard. The creature was sitting in the navigation seat, staring out of the viewport at the sheet of stars sparkling in the distance. Just from the side, Balthier could see that his eyes were alert and scanning, but instead of bristling and moody he seemed more relaxed. Until he spoke.

"Did you make food?" Sard asked in a raspy voice.

_Not relaxed. Just weak,_ Balthier amended and he nodded. "It's in the galley in the cooler."

"Go bring it to me," Sard said.

Balthier chuckled, glad that Sard's truculent manner was resurfacing. He could handle angry Sard and sarcastic Sard, but remotely friendly Sard was a complete mystery. "You're going to have to get it yourself. I won't let you eat in the cockpit."

Sard turned to glare at him and he held up his arm to show that it was still trembling. "I almost fainted on the way here. Now get me my food," he growled. That alone seemed to exhaust him and he sank into the chair, still glaring at him.

Balthier cocked his head. Sard was loathe to admit weakness—this was the first time the Prince-consort could remember such a thing. _He was always impatient. _But now Balthier was perplexed. The reason seemed unlikely for such an admission, but the Prince-consort pushed it aside and stood up. "C'mon. I'll prepare the food, but you are going to eat it in the galley." When he grabbed the creature's upper arm, it was yanked violently out of his grasp. Sard was trying to salvage what little pride he had left.

_Poor bastard. He kills a dragon and feels ashamed that it took such a toll on him. Anyone else would have likely died from the encounter. _Regardless, Balthier refrained from bringing it up and walked back to the galley. It took some time to heat up, but the moment Sard began eating it, Balthier could see his energy return, like the bright glow returning to the Glossair Rings when the power cell was replaced.

After Sard wolfed down his food he turned abruptly on Balthier. "Where are we headed?"

"Rusteau, Rozarria," Balthier replied. He was leaning back in his chair, a confident smirk on his face. The defeat of the dragon and now Sard's full recovery had his spirits soaring. They were almost finished and he would be able to return to his life. _Interesting how both of us were repulsed at the idea of having to work together, _he mused.

"Just off the coast of Northeast Rozarria. Nice thick forests to land in and make our getaway," Sard said with a nod. "We could use your ship to chase down the last Occuria. It'll be faster that way."

"No, I will not use the _Strahl_," Balthier said. "It's bad enough that we stole it. The moment I fly onto land they're going to descend on us like a pack of Dalmascan wolves. Besides, the ship's running low on fuel. We have to run."

"Then let's jump on a commercial ship and head to the capital."

"Word about the death of the dragon is going to get around fast." Balthier snorted and asked, "He's the last Occuria left. Do you really think he's going to stick around?"

"No, but it might be amusing to hear how he fled like a coward," Sard replied and his ears flickered in amusement. "We'll need to steal a cerose. The Occuria will be heading south to Vance."

Balthier grew somber as memories from his torture session floated to the top of his mind. "Do you think we'll have to face an army?" He asked, his confident smirk disappearing as they got deeper into their planning session.

"Not a chance in hell. With only one Occuria left, the army is scattered and incohesive. The Occurian won't have enough time to rally," Sard replied, as he helped himself to more of the stew. "He's on his own."

"If he's alone, though, he won't hesitate to do anything to save himself. We'll have to step lightly," Balthier said.

"He's a coward. They all were."

"I am merely suggesting we be cautious, Sard."

"I just killed a dragon. How hard could he be?" The creature was leering at him with a malicious smile curling his lips.

_Whatever doubt he was suffering before, it's gone now,_ Balthier mused. In a way it was gratifying to see Sard back to his usual arrogance. _Glad to see that this fight didn't keep him down for too long._

"We have our plan, we know the next move that it's going to make. I doubt much more needs to be said." Balthier's eyes flickered over to Sard. "You should probably go and get more rest. We still have a couple of hours until we reach our destination."

The creature said nothing and the Prince-consort felt it was time to return to the cockpit and keep his eye on things. He never did like leaving ship's auto-pilot on without any surveillance.

It was 0430 in the morning when they finally arrived in Rusteau. They skirted the town and maneuvered over the thick forest carefully until they came upon a clearing large enough for the _Strahl_ to land in. In the hour before, Sard packed their bags with enough food and set their weapons within reach.

"Nono, I hate to do this to you, but I'm going to put sleeping spell on you. It's suspicious enough that the thieves just abandoned the _Strahl_, but I'll take every pretense I can."

"As you wish, Captain," Nono said and he sat down in a chair. After a few minutes, the moogle slumped in the chair, snoring lightly.

Balthier carefully lifted Nono from the chair and laid him down into a closet and then locked the door. He tried to ignore the guilty part of him that fought to keep the door unlocked and shouted to Sard, "Nono's out. We best be on the move."

"I'm ready," Sard replied and brushed past him to head out into the night.

Balthier hurriedly picked up his gun and strapped his sword on, and then swung his pack on. He glanced around wistfully at the area and he couldn't resist running his hand on the doorframe of the cockpit. _I have to let her go. She'll be safe until our pursuers arrive._

Sard shouted to him, "Balthier, move your ass!"

He sighed in reluctance and wearily turned on his heel and headed out the door. The thought of setting the ship's security momentarily crossed his mind, but he dismissed it with a vague shake of his head. _If the thieves know too much there will be suspicion. _He finally disembarked to find Sard tapping his foot impatiently.

The moment the creature saw him he snarled, "I thought you were the one who was in such a big damn hurry to leave."

Balthier paid him no heed and simply walked straight into the forest. An oppressive silence fell on them the moment they were in the trees and neither spoke a word until they could see the twinkling lights of the small city. Just as the Prince-consort was ready to step out of the forest, Sard grabbed his arm.

"You can't just walk out there, you idiot. It won't take much to easily deduce we are the thieves, considering we just made a bee-line straight from your ship," he said, finishing off the sentence with a snort of disdain.

"Good thinking. We should come up from a main pathway. It'll be slightly less suspicious considering the gods' awful hour we're coming in," Balthier replied and immediately began making his way around to a main road.

"People walk into a city like this at all hours," Sard muttered.

It was as they imagined. They had no difficulty walking from a main road to the aerodrome. They received even fewer glances than usual due mainly to Sard wearing his helmet. The Prince-consort easily charmed the young woman at the counter into giving them tickets onto the next hour's flight to the capital. As much as they played up their nonchalance in the hour long wait, subtle clues gave away their tense nervousness; Balthier was leaning casually against the wall, but his eyes roved the entire area, on constant surveillance; Sard fidgeted in bored agitation, tapping his claws to an imaginary beat on the chairs they were sitting.

Just as the sun was rising, their airship left Rusteau bound for the capital.

* * *

Basch was pulling on his armor when he heard a knock on the guest room door. Queen Ashelia had patched a line through to him again just an hour or so after the _Strahl_ had made its getaway, to request that he land in Rabanastre instead of Archadia. "What for, My Lady?" He had asked.

"Because myself, Penelo, Vaan, Sari, and Fran will be accompanying you. Best to waste as little time as possible if we wish to catch these thieves once they return to land. They will need to land for fuel soon," she replied.

He opened his mouth in usual protest, but he shut it abruptly at the steely glint in her eye that would brook no argument. "Very well, my Lady. I will inform Lord Larsa."

It was how he was standing in a luxurious guest room strapping on his armor when he heard the knock. He did not bother raising his eyes and asked, "Who is it?"

"Captain Geoffrey Auberon, sir."

"You may come in." He only raised his eyes when the young man slipped in and nodded cordially at him, despite the strangely somber expression.

Geoffrey saluted and then said, "Sir, we have received word on the _Strahl_ having landed near Rusteau, Rozarria. Because of the late hour they were unable to confirm it was the _Strahl_ until the sun rose. The Queen wishes to leave immediately."

"Very well," Basch said and pulled his helmet on to complete his armor. "Send a message ahead to the bridge of the _Valefor_ and have the crew prepare the ship. We leave at once."

"Yes, sir."

He was unsurprised to find Ashelia and the others already waiting in the Entrance Hall. The children were quietly chatting, but Ashe, Fran and Sari maintained a formal silence. There was a fire in the in the queen's eyes and her head was raised in a defiant gesture to the thieves she desperately wanted to catch. Fran was as emotionless as ever, but she was still cordial enough to give him a nod. Sari kept her eyes turned to the ground, soundlessly chewing on her lip and Geoffrey waited stiffly on the outskirts and also nodded to him.

"They've had several hours head start. We need to move fast if we wish to catch them," Ashe said.

"Don't worry, Your Majesty, we'll catch them," Gabranth replied.

For a ship as large as the _Valefor_, they were forced to walk to the local aerodrome, but by the time they got there, the ship's engines were warm enough for take-off. They spent very little time on preparations before they were rising into the air.

"It will be six hours until we reach Rusteau, sir," an officer gave his report.

"Very good. Carry on," Gabranth said and then he glanced down at the queen. Though her expression was smooth, her knuckles were turning white from the strain of gripping the rail.

"Your Highness, I suggest you rest for the duration of the voyage. We have some time to spare until we get there."

She lingered for a moment, giving him a glare, but then she conceded and walked off the bridge, with Geoffrey following close behind her. Once the queen had left for her quarters, Vaan and Penelo began a mumbled conversation.

"Poor Ashe. It must be so hard for her, knowing that someone stole Balthier's ship. She doesn't have all that many things to remember him by."

Vaan nodded and sighed. "Yeah, I know. Who would do something like this? Whoever they were, they've got a death wish."

"What's more puzzling is why steal the _Strahl_ to pursue the dragon. It cannot be coincidence," Fran spoke up from next to Gabranth. "The dragon would've been the perfect excuse to make a getaway, but they pursued it and it flew. They tried to kill it before."

"That creature that hit you, Fran, have you ever seen anything like it?" Vaan asked, leaning back onto a railing.

Fran was quiet for a moment before she finally shook her head. "I have never seen a character quite like him, although his attire suggests the nature of his trade: bounty hunter."

"You've only mentioned this character in passing," Gabranth said. "What did he look like?"

Penelo and Vaan traded nervous glances. "We can barely remember him before we got put to sleep," the girl said. "He was furry and he had a face a little like a wolf, but he could walk on two feet."

"You think he might be an experiment gone wrong?" Vaan asked with a laugh.

"I do not know," Fran replied.

"He'd have to be a really good fighter to get the better of Fran," Penelo said and she gave Fran a beaming smile.

"I caught a glimpse of this creature. He was undoubtedly the slayer of the dragon," Gabranth said. "Despite his feat, a hume was forced to jump into the water to save him. I did not get a good look at him, unfortunately."

"I saw the second man before he used his spell, but he was wearing a mask," Penelo said with a sigh.

After a moment of silence, Sari finally spoke up behind them and said, "Well, as stimulating as this conversation is, the last couple of days have been especially trying for my body. I think I shall follow the queen. Judge-Magister, everyone." Sari finished with a nod and left the bridge.

"She has information," Fran whispered to Gabranth. "She did not join in the speculation and she eyes gave away her nerves. I would guess she knows the identities of the thieves."

Gabranth frowned. "I'm not sure I agree. She never did catch a glimpse of the thieves in either of the incidences. Probably had nothing to contribute," he replied.

"True, but I still have a feeling she knows more than she is saying," Fran said.

"I could ask her about it," Vaan said. His face still held a boyish quality and it lit up like a beacon.

"Vaan, I'm not sure that's a good idea. It sounds like interrogation to me and she's had it just as hard as Ashe. Let her be," Penelo said. The four people had slowly moved closer to that their conversation was not broadcasted to the entire bridge.

"I agree. She is considered a friend still. I would ask her nothing about the thieves," Gabranth said, staring more pointedly at Fran and Vaan. He knew the viera was especially curious to learn of thieves that managed to get the better of all three of them. It did not sound much like Fran to pursue vengeance for her late former partner, but he would not be surprised if she did. "I would be eager to know about the thieves from Nono, though. We have vids showing him helping them back into the ship."

"Under pain of death?" Vaan asked, his eyes narrowing in confusion and anger. They were all particularly fond of the moogle.

"Not that I could easily see. He appeared to be willingly helping them," Gabranth replied.

"Well, they did kill the dragon," Penelo said. "Perhaps he was helping them as heroes."

"Yes, despite this misdeed, they willingly hunted down the dragon and saw it slain when our own weapons failed," Fran replied.

There was little else to be said or done while they waited to reach Rusteau. Everyone walked in and off the bridge in their restlessness; Fran and Gabranth were the only ones who remained there. Just after their conversation, an officer approached Gabranth and said, "Sir, the Emperor Lord Solidor is requesting to speak with you."

"Take it."

"Judge-Magister Gabranth?"

"Yes, my Lord Emperor?"

"We have received news that one, Al-Madine Solen, former royal advisor to the King Margrace, has abducted Princess Amadis and is now thought to be fleeing southeast. Will you please offer the royal family your services in exchange for allowing you to cross their border?"

Gabranth was stunned into a momentary silence. _A princess has now been kidnapped? The Gods are not being easy on Rozarria. _"Of course, My Lord. We are still two hours from the landing site of the _Strahl_. There have been no further reports of it leaving that area."

"Very well, carry on," Larsa said and then he abruptly cut out.

"Whoa, a Princess of Al-Cid's family has been kidnapped?" Vaan asked. "That's intense. Do you think the guy will do anything to harm her?"

"If he does, he knows perfectly well he will not be able to take cover in any sovereign nation without being summarily executed on sight," Gabranth said.

The next two hours seemed to go at the pace of a snail. The minutes slowly oozed by as all the humes on board attempted to distract themselves while they waited to reach Rusteau. Once they were granted permission to land, Vaan bolted for the ramp with Penelo in hot pursuit.

"C'mon, we're wasting time!" Vaan called from down the hall.

"Vaan, if it's still there, the thieves most assuredly are not," Sari's no-nonsense tone came drifting up, too, and when Gabranth reached her she was shaking her head in exasperation.

"That boy needs to listen more," she muttered.

"He's always been remarkably headstrong," Gabranth replied with what sounded like laughter in his voice.

"I know. Must be nice, to retain such innocence," Sari said and then followed the children out the ship.

A representative from the town of Rusteau was there to greet them and after a brief and formal conversation with Ashe, the blue bangaa began leading them through town in the direction of where the _Strahl_ had been found and unmoved.

"Do you know when the ship arrived?" Ashe asked as she followed the bangaa.

"Unfortunately, no, my Lady. We only know of ships that land in the hangar, although our lookouts say it flew overhead at roughly 0430 in the morning," he replied.

"It's 1000 hours right now," Ashelia said with a groan. "They have undoubtedly abandoned the ship."

"Why?" Fran suddenly spoke up. "They could have easily paid for licensing to be done and strip it of all its former identification by the time we got here."

"Let's hope they did not take Nono hostage or our answers should be awaiting us on board the _Strahl_," Gabranth spoke up from the viera's side.

"If that's the case, why would they take a moogle hostage and abandon another possible ransom chip?" Sari asked. "Very little of it is adding up."

"Well, we'll have the answers once we get there," Penelo jutted in. "We must be patient."

They cut a path toward the ship and half an hour later found themselves staring up at the marred exterior of the ship. Vaan's mouth had fallen open and he barely managed to sputter, "The _Strahl_….it's….all scuffed up! Look at these marks!" He reached up a hand to run it along the jagged edge of a claw mark that ripped at its side. "Balthier would be furious!"

"They left the door open," Fran suddenly said and she opened up the steps and strode inside.

Gabranth was much less preoccupied with the outside scratches and hurried inside as well. _Nono must be in here. Please make it so_, he quietly prayed to himself and stepped around the ship looking for the moogle. He felt like his mind was numbed to quietude when he found no one around the ship. _No…_ His breathing paused for a moment and then he turned. It was very faint, but he was almost certain there was a scratching noise against one of the ship's walls. He listened carefully for another moment then found the hall closet and opened it up, and he could not help but smile a little to see the little moogle sigh in relief.

"Phew, thank you, kupo. I was afraid I might be stuck in here forever," he said.

"Good to see you're well, Nono. They didn't hurt you, did they?"

"No, thank the gods they didn't, kupo. One of them had quite the murderous rage. Thankfully it was channeled towards the dragon," the moogle replied and carefully clopped his way towards the galley, tottering slightly unsteady on its feet.

"Nono, you're okay," Penelo spotted him as he walked into the galley and she immediately rushed over to hug him.

"Oof. Yes, I'm fine, Penelo. The thieves never hurt me. They were just scary," Nono said with a smile, and then he began rooting around the cabinets in the galleys for any food. "They stole most of the food, too, the rascals!"

"Nono, we must ask you a few questions about your captors," Gabranth said. He took note of the fear that crossed the moogle's eyes, but it was gone almost immediately and he hesitantly nodded. "Did you recognize the thieves at all?"

He hesitated and then shook his head slowly. "No, kupo, they were unknown to me. The hume was nice, though. He handled the other creature." The moogle shuddered at the memory.

"Are you sure you didn't recognize them? We have footage of you helping them back into the ship after they fell into the water," Gabranth replied; his eyes were like steel.

"I had to help them out. Did you see the teeth that one creature had? Not something to be trifled with, kupo," Nono replied and he dumped out a packet of dried noodles into a saucepan.

"That creature you're talking," Penelo began, "it had the face of a wolf, didn't it?"

"Yes, that same creature. Rapacious beast."

Gabranth drew his lips into a thin line. Nono was being evasive, he knew he was. It was quite obvious, but perhaps in personal company he could draw the information out of the moogle. But for now he let him be and asked, "Did you hear any names?"

"Just one. The creature…never really called the hume anything. Sard. His name was Sard."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

The Judge-Magister heaved a sigh. "Well, I suggest we power this machine up and fly it back to the aerodrome. The next stop will be the Rozarrian royal palace."

**Author's Note:** Reviews would be nice.


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's Note: **I am so sorry this took so long to get out, but real life has been a pain. The last four weeks of the school year were the toughest four weeks I've ever had to do, and as soon as I got home my parents made me pack up everything and move houses. I finally got a break this last week. Enjoy!

**Chapter 29**

The moment Balthier and Sard stepped off their airship they were swept up in the absolute chaos of the aerodrome. A security checkpoint was set up, running every person through a fine-toothed comb before they were allowed either into the aerodrome or onto their airships.

Balthier threw a questioning glance at Sard. "This security is quite a bit tighter than I recall the last time we were here," he muttered.

A soldier overheard him and he said, "A dangerous man has fled the palace. Unfortunately we have no more information at this time. Please follow procedure quickly and quietly."

The Prince-consort quirked an eyebrow at the soldier but he remained silent and went through the paces as they wished. Sard had a considerably more difficult time complying, snarling at them sharply when they frisked him and took their time examining his ID. They finally made it out of the aerodrome, the creature muttering several minutes later about the indecency of those "sand-blasted humes."

The city appeared to be just as alert and tensed as the security in the aerodrome. People all around them were giving their weapons and their clothes furtive glances, only turning their eyes away when they were caught staring.

"The Occurian did something big before he skipped town. The city is rank with fear," Sard said, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

"Well, he did position himself closely to the royal family. That would have protected him from ordinary prosecution, but now they themselves are vulnerable to any blackmail he might pin on them," Balthier replied, trying to keep his eyes from wandering too much.

"But your honesty and my fighting prowess would have ferreted him out soon enough," Sard said. A smirk tugged at the creature's lips and his eyes danced in amusement, no doubt relishing in the fear that the Occurian was undoubtedly feeling at the prospect of meeting them. "His death is imminent."

Balthier could not contain his own amused chuckle. "All I have is honesty? I think it's pretty clear how very little you know of my past. Besides, I've killed half of our targets so far."

Sard glanced at him sharply. "Only because you had me as a decoy! Makes it easier to ambush them. The gods I killed had their attention completely focused on me," Sard replied. From the way the creature was smiling now, Balthier knew he was trying to goad him.

"I would be interested to see how you flap your arms to join that dragon in the sky. If not for my piloting skills, that monster would've ripped you to ribbons."

"If your ship were any more nimble, I would've been able to fight that thing without jumping onto it."

Balthier opened his mouth for a far more vicious retort—_No one can get away with insulting my ship!_—when they reached the fortress walls of the Margrace Palace. The doors were sealed shut in stark contrast to when they were wide open to show solidarity with the public. Two soldiers flanking the gate frowned severely at them, but neither Sard nor Balthier showed anything beyond their cool exterior.

"Halt! State your name and business."

"Arun Rakesh and Sard," Balthier replied, and then he lifted his head and stared down his nose at the guard. "Our business is our own."

The soldier's scowl deepened and both of them moved forward to put their spears under their chins.

A smirk graced Balthier's fine face at the action, but Sard was far less amused at the threat and hissed; his fur bristled on his back and he slapped the spear away. It was once again shoved back into his face, and he slid his sword out and lopped the heads of both spears off with one clean swipe.

"Get out of our way, deadweights," Sard growled.

Without their spears, the guards' confidence wavered and they glanced at each other.

"Stand down!" General Al-Tamir strode out from between the gate and gave both soldiers a withering glare, and then he bowed his head to Balthier. "Arun Rakesh, please follow me. We have been expecting you."

Sard grinned. "Demoted in status, General?"

Balthier saw Al-Tamir flick a hard stare to the creature, but it was only in an instant before he was leading them down the long white, gravel path to the front doors. The front garden was lustrous with thousand of various shape and color, but a tension gripped the air.

"Can you explain to us the situation? The advisor ran, obviously, but I sense there is something else afoot," Balthier asked.

"Of course he ran," Sard said.

"He did run, but not without causing serious damage. I can say no more," Al-Tamir replied. The Prince-consort saw a shiver run up the General's spine and he shook his head. "His Royal Highness, King Russell Margrace the XVI wishes to address you personally on the situation."

Once again, they were ushered into the magnificent Great Hall, but the formalities were completely forgone as they were rushed to stand in front of the King and Queen. Balthier noted, after a quick bow, that both were paler than he remembered and their faces were creased with stress and worry rather than smooth with confidence and elegance.

"The man who fled; he's one of your targets, is he not?" The King barked at them.

"Yes, your Highness. He is our _final_ target," Balthier replied.

"You will be able to track him down?"

"Yes, sire."

"We will provide transportation and food for your hunt on one condition." Balthier stayed silent and simply raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Bring our daughter, Princess Amadis, back."

The Prince-consort almost gasped, but he head Sard snort beside him and say, "Sounds like the bloody coward."

"Very well, Your Majesties. We wish to depart immedi—"

One of the side doors burst open, causing everyone to turn to see the commotion. Two guards escorted Al-Cid Margrace between them. Before they even reached the King, one started speaking, "Sir, we received information that the Prince Al-Cid sent an unauthorized transmission to the to the Archadian Emperor, Lord Larsa Solidor."

_Oh bloody hell, _Balthier thought when Al-Cid immediately saw him and his mouth fell open in shock. The Prince-consort remained stoic but anger blazed in his eyes. _It appears my game is nearly up. The final act is upon us._

"Al-Cid, how dare you disobey our orders! We wanted to keep this tightly concealed for a reason," King Margrace roared at his son, but Balthier could tell it lacked energy. They were far more concerned about their missing daughter than any errant transmissions.

"Forgive me, father, but I know that the Queen Ashelia and Judge-Magister Gabranth will be within our borders soon enough, and I wished merely for them to help keep a lookout for the kidnapper. But what it is this? Who is this person who appears to be in such exact appearance to the late Captain Balthier Bunansa?"

_The only one not of my nation who remembers my original title, _Balthier conceded, but anger was boiling in his system.

"He is not of you con—"

"Oh, for the gods' sakes, of course it's I, Balthier Bunansa, but as interesting as this all is, we have a traitor to hunt down," Balthier interrupted the King Margrace. "We are departing _now_. Sard, let's go!"

"Just a moment," the King said. "Tell us what you need and it will be ready within the hour."

Sard suddenly spoke up, "A transport to the southeast edge of your border, another cerose, and four days worth of food."

"He crossed the Sanguinarius desert?"

"Yes."

"Very well. General, supply these men with weapons and equipment! Berenger, run down to the kitchen and be sure to have the chef pack dried meat and fruit and water skins. Chayton, send a message to Captain Amilain and have her prepare a cerose and a ship. Now go!"

The hall was suddenly abuzz with activity and the noise of creaking doors as named people rushed to do as they were ordered. Though both royals appeared unkempt and frazzled, their authority remained powerful to their subjects.

Before they left the hall, Balther turned to address the king and queen again, "You need not worry over the welfare of your daughter. He wants _us_ dead, not her."

General Al-Tamir once again escorted them out of the Great Hall, down one wing of the palace, and finally to his private weapons room. It was considerably smaller compared to the one they had restocked at before, but it had an even greater variety in weapons and ammunition than before.

"Sard, as I promised, here is your Antares back," Al-Tamir said, going behind his desk and pulling the custom gun out from a drawer in his desk.

The creature slapped the crossbow he had been using since the battle onto the desk hard enough to make it shiver, and then he carefully picked up the Antares. Balthier studied him out of the corner of his eye, smiling lightly at the warm expression on Sard's face as he gingerly rubbed a paw over its barrel in delight at the familiarity. It was over in an instant and his face went back to a hard neutral as he turned his eyes on the rest of the weapons in the room.

His Antares aside, Sard only picked up ammo to supply it before he stood waiting by the door. Balthier, however, contemplated trading his gun for another more powerful Hector, but swiftly decided against its weight and also opted only for ammo.

"Are we done here?" Sard nodded. "Then let's get out of here. Undoubtedly my wife will be on her way after that little stunt Al-Cid pulled. There's no way she will not find out about my being alive now. I wish to be long gone from here. General," Balthier turned to him and bowed his head respectfully, "I would appreciate it if you could stall them for as long as you can. If I know my wife and any of our friends, they will come rushing after me to help. They're quite stubborn though, so you won't be able to keep them for long."

"I will do all that I can to delay them, Balthier. You have my word," Al-Tamir said.

"Thank you. Let's make tracks, Sard."

Their ship lifted off after only a half hour of waiting.

* * *

The Queen Ashelia Bunansa was not in an indulgent mood. She sat in Judge-Magister Gabranth's command chair on the bridge and glared hard at the air in front of her, tapping her fingernails impatiently against the arm of the chair. So far the day had not progressed as she wished it had; there was no trace of the thieves. After Nono failed to have the information she so desperately wanted, she stormed back onto the ship and grudgingly agreed to head to the Rozarrian palace to consult the King and Queen there. Fran, the children, and Nono had opted to stay behind to work on the _Strahl_ and refuel. Sari was missing from the bridge.

It was another hour before they landed and Ashe decided to take the time to contemplate. She'd already given Gabranth a pointed glare after he once again insisted she retire to her room. He smartly kept quiet after that. Geoffrey remained loyal by her side, staying mercifully silent as well.

_Why would the thieves steal my husband's ship and abandon it after they destroyed an international menace. They break the law and steal and use the opportunity to do a good deed? _Ashe wondered and an infuriating sigh escaped her lips. It didn't make any sense! _If I do manage to meet the thieves, I think I'll be torn between thanking them and clapping them in irons. _

She was particularly curious about this creature Nono, the children, and Fran had described to her. It sounded like nothing she had ever heard of it and it was also capable of disabling Fran, something Ashe had initially thought was impossible. _I should put out a bounty for his hide. Perhaps his partner will get scooped into the deal as well._

Ashe snorted and then shook her head to rid her thoughts of the pair. There was a considerably more serious issue at hand: the kidnapped Princess Amadis Margrace. An otherwise trustworthy advisor to the Royal Family suddenly stabs them in the back and snatches a Princess in one fell swoop. That also made little sense to Ashe and she wondered if perhaps the advisor had been hatching a plot to blackmail the Margraces for some time. _But if he was, then he did a poor job of executing it. His face is known to all now, and he would have to spend a considerable amount of his fortune to have it changed if he wished to disappear. _Actually, the situation sounded quite a bit like a sullen man having a mid-life crisis. _Perhaps the man has a death wish._

So many questions and so few answers. It also seemed likely that none of those questions would ever receive answers, particularly if the thieves had disappeared into the population of the planet. Only the one face was known now and his presence seemed to materialize all at once. No one had ever seen him before.

"Your Highness, we have arrived at the Margrace Royal Palace," Gabranth said softly into her ear.

"Thank you, Gabranth," Ashe replied and immediately stood to walk down the ramp.

She tried not to show her surprise upon seeing not only King Russell and his wife, but Al-Cid also stood with the escort and he had a deep frown on his face; General Al-Tamir was on their other side. He was the only one who appeared cool and collected. Tension strained each royal face and she could sense the anger and frustration.

"Good day, your Majesties. I am so sorry to hear of your loss. I hope everything turns out in your favor," Ashe said with a gentle smile on her face as she bowed slightly.

She was surprised when the king waved away at her bow and said, "Please, follow us inside. Now that you are here again, 'twould be a shame to deny our hospitality."

Ashe glanced behind her as they moved inside and saw that Gabranth, Geoffrey, and Sari had joined her. There was a surprising silence as they walked down the hall, and the queen subtly attempted to glance at Al-Cid whose eyes she caught, but he stayed quiet, and turned to his father.

"My Lady, I am afraid there was a miscommunication. You were not supposed to receive that message on your ship, but the Prince Al-Cid chose not to listen to our plea of silence. You need not concern yourself with the trouble of our missing daughter. We _are_ doing all we can to get her back."

Ashe blinked in bewilderment and her mouth was open in shock. "Surely there is some way I could help. My nation may now be on the alert for the man who kidnapped your daughter. I am also prepared to mobilize my ships on a worldwide search for her as well!"

"Although I appreciate your concern and your offer of help, I must decline. I am confident our daughter will be returned in a matter of days."

"Very well, your Grace. I wish you good fortune then."

"My Queen Ashelia, my father instead has something else to tell you," Al-Cid interjected. Ashe looked at the King and saw him wince ever so slightly at the statement, causing her to narrow her eyes suspiciously. "And if he won't, I will."

"Tell me what?" Ashe looked around at all the faces in her group. She caught Sari and Al-Tamir exchanging a knowing look, but she was certain that if she saw Gabranth's face he would also appear just as confused as her, for he stood stiffly by her side. Her eyes narrowed as she took them all in and asked again, "What is it I must know?"

There was a pause and then finally Al-Cid stepped forward and with a flair of his hands, he said, "My Lady Ashe, I am pleased to inform you that I saw your formerly late husband, Balthier Bunansa, not two hours ago, receiving orders from my father."

A stunned silence followed Al-Cid's announcement. Ashe gaped at him for the longest time until she finally remembered to breathe, and then she glared angrily at him. "Al-Cid, do you consider this a joke? Because if you do, it is in extremely poor taste. Balthier is dead!"

"He was," Sari spoke up and the queen rounded on her, "but now he's back."

"How? Wha-why?" Ashe threw her hands up into the air, desperately trying to find the words to express herself. "He can't be back! How long has he been back? Why wouldn't he tell me? Why didn't any of _you_ tell me?"

"I'm not sure how. Balthier didn't go into the details," Sari replied.

"You're very vulnerable at this time, Your Highness," Al-Tamir stepped in. "Balthier did not want to risk your safety by revealing his livelihood. He has also been completing a dangerous task, one that could easily kill him. He didn't want to get your hopes up again."

Ashe thought her heart might stop in her chest. _Balthier's alive? But how can that be? _As she thought of the possibility, several puzzle pieces started falling into place to answer the questions she had been contemplating earlier. _Who else would know the _Strahl_ can fly over Jagd? Who else would know how best to disarm Fran and the children? Who else could have made a getaway from the fleet that had followed them to the oceans? Is this why Balthier's body disappeared? That was…two months ago! He's been alive all this time?_

"Your Highness, speak to me!" She suddenly found herself staring into Geoffrey's eyes. He had a hand on her shoulder and a worried look on his face.

"You should lie down now, your Highness."

"B-but Balthier…"

"Balthier's in good hands, your Highness. Sard is the toughest bounty hunter I have ever met. They'll be safe," Al-Tamir said. Sari gave him a furtive look.

"No, Balthier…Geoffrey, I want you, Fran, and the children to go after him," she managed to say, still blinking dazedly. "Bring him back to me."

"Of course, my Lady. I will call them immediately, but they are repairing the damage the dragon made to the ship."

"Tell them to cut the repairs short," she replied in a soft voice.

"Where is the _Strahl_?" Al-Tamir asked.

"They flew her to Rusteau."

"Have them fly here and I will outfit you with my private stores," the General said and patted the young guard on the back as they walked away.

"Your Highness, you should lie down now. Chayton, please see that the Queen Ashelia gets our most comfortable suite," the king said to a servant in his entourage.

"Yes, my King. Please follow me, your Majesty," the man said after a deep bow to her.

Gabranth lightly pushed Ashe in the direction of the servant and she finally started walking, but by the blank look on her face he could tell the response was merely automatic.

Halfway down the hall, Ashe whispered to herself, "Balthier…you're alive. I can't believe it, but you're alive." Her hand automatically went down to brush her abdomen and she smiled gently. _Will you then get to see our child? _

Almost immediately the smile fell off her face as she recalled the General's words, _"He has also been completing a dangerous task, one that could easily kill him. He didn't want to get your hopes up again."_ This was precisely why Balthier had refrained from revealing himself to her. _What are the odds he won't return? He may die but a capable bounty hunter is accompanying him? _ If she was right about him stealing his _Strahl_ back to chase after the dragon, then how much more dangerous could one traitorous advisor be compared to that monster?

When the servant directed her through a door to her room, she made a bee-line for the bed, but then stopped shy of getting in when she noticed Gabranth waited just inside the doorway. He had removed his helmet and was staring at the floor forlornly.

"Basch, what is it? I know you must be shocked to—"

"I recognized him."

Ashe blinked and asked, "What?"

"I saw Balthier climbing out of the ocean, back onto the _Strahl_. He looked so familiar, but I thought—" He glanced up with a desperate expression on his face. "I _knew_ he was dead. I carried his cold body in my arms for an entire day, but I almost had a heart attack when I saw the back of his head on the _Strahl_."

"Don't worry about it, Basch. You couldn't have known it was he," Ashe replied. She cast her eyes to the side and then looked up again. "I suppose I should forgive you your failure now. He is still alive after all."

Basch glanced up hopefully and bowed. "Thank you, your Highness, but…the General did say Balthier might not come back." He finished that sentence so quietly Ashe had to strain her ears to catch the last of it.

"If he does die this second time around, it will be no fault of your own," she said. "You have my sincere apologies for treating you so terribly these last couple of months.

"Thank you very much, your Majesty. It is an honor. You need not plead for your own forgiveness. It was no less than what I deserved," he replied with an amused half-smile. "I must get back to the _Valefor_ and send a message to Lord Larsa to inform him of the good news. Good day, your Highness."

The moment he left, she fell backwards onto the bed and sighed dramatically. It was only early afternoon and yet she could already feel her muscles sagging in exhaustion. To learn her deceased husband was back from the dead took an unprecedented toll on her body, but regardless of the personal warnings, she cracked the first true smile she had felt in months. _Balthier is alive. _"I have faith in you, you roguish sky pirate. I _know_ you'll come back to me."

She drifted off into a dreamless sleep, with the smile still on her face.

**Author's note: **I hope you enjoyed! Show a little love and leave a review. :)


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's Note: **Sorry again that this took so long. The next chapter shouldn't take nearly as long.

**Ninquenis: **Thank you so much for your review! I was starting to wonder if anyone else cared about this fic. Your encouragement helped get this chapter done.

**Chapter 30**

Geoffrey waited just inside the open door to the Margrace's private landing platform, waiting for the _Strahl_. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his face composed into a hard shell, but internally his heart pounded and he still felt the numb effects of shock.

_It sounds so like him too. Imagine, Captain Bunansa defying even death itself. _Geoffrey smiled to himself. _Rogue. He's established himself as a forced to be reckoned with—on the political front as well as the battlefront. It is comforting to know Dalmasca has such powerful people for its monarchs._

He was marveling over the dragon fight when a dark shadow slid over the ground. _Oh good, they're here._

As usual, Penelo and Vaan bounded off the ship straight towards him. "What's up? You told us to get down here as fast as we could. Is something wrong?" Vaan asked.

"Is it Ashe? Does she need us?" Penelo spoke up.

Their questions trailed off when Geoffrey held up his hands. He seemed to struggle to find the right words and then he finally said, "Queen Ashelia does not need your help. Balthier does."

Just as with Ashe, there was a tense moment of silence. Then a grin broke over Vaan's face, "Balthier's alive?" When Geoffrey nodded Vaan laughed allowed and yelled, "I knew it! I knew he was alive, the sly dog!"

"No you didn't, you just hoped he was," Penelo answered back. "He is alive though? Really?"

"Yes, Sari confirmed it," he replied.

Hey, he must've been the one who stole the _Strahl!_ The guy with the mask," Vaan said, his eyes wide from the sudden epiphany.

Geoffrey couldn't keep the grin from forming on his face. "Yes, he took the _Strahl._"

Fran joined them with a rare smile on her face. "So Balthier yet lives? That is good news."

"Yes, it is." The grin fell from his face though and he said, "but he's on a very dangerous mission. We need to track him down and ensure his safety. He fled the palace pretty quickly, from what I heard, when he got news the Lady Ashe was on her way. It'll be difficult to track him down."

"I'll go tell the crew to refuel the _Strahl_," Vaan said and dashed off.

Penelo was puzzled though. "Why would Balthier run from Ashe? Doesn't he want to see her?"

"Undoubtedly, it was for her protection," Fran replied.

"Oh. I guess that makes sense."

"All right, are you equipped? Do you need any weapons? Bolts? General Al-Tamir has been kind enough to offer his private stores to us."

"I need a new knife," Penelo said, "and I am low on bolts."

"I need bolts too," Fran replied.

"Hey, the palace maintenance crew said it would be forty minutes for the _Strahl_ to be refueled," Vaan reappeared and said with a frown. "That's funny. It never usually takes that long."

"Maybe there's a queue," Penelo suggested.

"Hmm…maybe. Let's replenish our supplies while we wait," Geoffrey said and led them down the hall.

"Ah, Captain, there you are. Please follow me," Al-Tamir said when he spotted them halfway down the hall. "My quarters are clear on the other side of the palace." Ten minute later after twisting and turning through many different halls, the General finally held the door open.

Several different guns, knives, bolts, and crossbows were already lying on two separate tables. A couple of spears and javelins were even leaning in a corner. "Here is my private equipment. The variety isn't extensive, but they are of the highest quality."

As Geoffrey walked around the room, he gave a low whistle. Most of the guns were customized for the General, often inlaid with silver or gold. There was one particular gun with tribal designs of animals such as the wyvern and the saurian stylistically etched with iridescent green.

Al-Tamir caught him admiring it and stepped up beside him. "I commissioned the southern Garif tribe for that one. They call it 'Karuvar,' which means 'deadly beauty' in their language. What makes it so unique is that the barrel can be opened in the back for even easier loading than a gun you'd find on the streets."

Geoffrey picked it up and handled it like a blown glass object, carefully inspecting the smoky gray barrel, trigger, and body. "This is your favorite."

"It's certainly proven more reliable than my other guns," he replied.

Geoffrey glanced at his standard-issued Gruvar and then wistfully back at the other one. "I'll take your weapon as collateral."

"What do you think will keep me from simply never giving it back?" Geoffrey asked, as light danced in his eyes and he smiled in amusement.

The General's smile did not disappear, but his eyes held a sharper glint. "I have good faith the Queen Ashelia will not tolerate thieves among her ranks."

Geoffrey's yes flickered briefly over to Vaan and Penelo as his amusement increased. "Right you are, of course," he said. His amusement vanished with the moment and he asked, "Do you really think I will have need of such a weapon?"

The older man frowned thoughtfully and he replied, "I suppose that depends on whether you find Balthier before or after he's completed his mission."

Geoffrey's mind cast back to the ugly red dragon, throwing hovercrafts and people around like toys, and then he pulled his Gruvar out, handed it over, and then holstered the favored weapon. "I would much prefer to err on the side of preparedness. Are we ready?'

"Hey, can I use this?" Vaan asked, holding up a one-handed sword. Its silver blade gleamed in the sunlight.

"Careful," Al-Tamir said, "You could easy lose a finger by mishandling it. It's said that blade can cut through stone, but I've never tried it myself."

"Hmmm…" Vaan smiled down at the blade.

"Vaan, don't you dare!" Penelo said, marching up to him with her hands on her hips.

"What?"

"Don't even try that innocent act on me!"

"I won't do anything!"

"You want to see if the rumor's true, but don't do it! You could break it or ruin the blade. And I will not save you if the General tans your hide for every cent you have."

His shoulders slumped dejectedly, but he looked up hopefully at Al-Tamir. "May I please borrow it, though? I promise not to use it to cut rocks."

"Most certainly. Just hand me your other blade."

"Thank you, sir. I promise to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid with it," Penelo said.

"Are we ready? Then let's go," Geoffrey said and opened the door for everyone to file out. As they walked back to the ship, the lieutenant drilled the General. "What is Balthier doing and why is he doing it alone?"

"He's not alone, but I can't answer that for you. He's remained especially tight-lipped about just whom he's hunting down. He's declared them threats to his wife's life and the sovereignty of Dalmasca, but I know little else. He has just one left to kill."

"It's the same man who kidnapped the Princess Amadis?"

"Yes."

"The royal family has a remarkable amount of faith in him."

Al-Tamir gave him a hard stare and said in a serious tone, "I have never seen any other person endure this hell that Balthier has been forced to: hunting with a creature bent on killing him, nearly getting cut to pieces by a dragon, and tortured to within an inch of his life. I doubt there is another man alive who could come through the other side without breaking and it's all for his wife and queen, Ashelia."

Geoffrey stared at him in stunned surprise. _By the Gods! If any of that is even a fraction true, then how the hell has he not died…again!? _He shook himself from his stupor and asked, "I trust that you provided him the same courtesy to your private stores as you did us?"

"Indeed I did. Both much preferred to keep their original weapons and simply take shot with them. In fact, I believe Sard's gun is even more powerful than the one I just loaned you. Beautiful and undoubtedly a powerful shot, designed specifically for him."

"Envious, General?"

"It would be a treasure to add to my collection, but it is rightfully his."

Geoffrey suddenly saw a flash of ebony and long white curls before the General was pushed roughly against a wall with Fran's claws at his throat.

"What the hell are you doing, Fran?!"

For all her agility and her irascible behavior, the viera was surprisingly calm as she spoke. "I have been paying careful attention to the route we have been taking, and we have already passed three halls I recognize that we could have gone down. You are deliberately taking us a longer route, are you not?"

The General chuckled. "I'm surprised it took you even this long to figure that out."

"You delayed the fueling of our ship as well, didn't you?" Geoffrey suddenly asked and he shook his head. "Why?"

"Balthier's orders. Every minute you stay here, the farther out of reach he will be."

"Classic Balthier," Fran said. "He would do everything he could to roadblock us. No doubt he wishes none of us to be involved in his fight."

"Why not? We fought Vayne together five years ago," Vaan said with an annoyed frown. "I've proven myself a good fighter. I think I might be a better swordsman than him to."

"Vaan, isn't it obvious? He doesn't want us to get hurt," Penelo replied.

Geoffrey grimaced. "He might even have a point if what the General has been telling me of his story is even half true." Both the children threw him scandalized looks and he raised his eyebrows at them. "Did I say anywhere that we would simply did as he wanted? He shouldn't have to fight this alone, considering all the pain and suffering he's already had to endure. C'mon, let's go!"

Fran let go of Al-Tamir and he nearly slumped to the floor, but he quickly brushed his uniform and composed himself under another stony mask. "I can't say I agreed with him to do this alone, but they've gotten this far. Perhaps they can do the rest."

"We're going after him," Geoffrey said and they quickly ran down the hall and found the ship again in less than a minute. "That slimeball. We could have left half an hour ago."

"I should have said something sooner," Fran replied as she sat down in the co-pilot's chair.

"Aww…c'mon, Fran, it wasn't your fault," Vaan said to her as she flipped the switched to start the engine. "At least we got some good weapons out of him before we left.

"Weapons. You value better weapons than more time to save our friend's life? I really can't believe you sometimes," Penelo said.

"But Penelo, these weapons might help us save Balthier's life when we actually get there! I mean, who knows what kind of tough customer he'll be dealing with."

"We did perfectly fine with those weapons against Vayne—"

"That's enough," Geoffrey said. "The important thing right now is that we find him in good time. Fran, do you have our bearing?"

"They say Balthier was headed toward the Sanguinarius Desert. I was given the exact coordinates their own transport used."

"Excellent. Let's be off then."

* * *

The ship touched down on the northern edge of the Sanguinarius desert. Balthier immediately hit the button to lower the back ramp, and he and Sard were blinded by shine of the white hot sands beneath. As Balthier squinted out into the ship, he could see the landscape stretched endlessly before them and Balthier groaned.

"Can you see any oasis' out there? If we're not careful our bodies could be discovered to have died from lack of water rather than from terrible wounds inflicted during a vicious battle between the mortals and god," the Prince-consort said, nearly gagging on the wave of dry air that met them.

"Don't worry yourself. Unlike your weak hume senses, I can smell water up to a mile away," Sard replied with a smug smile.

Balthier glared at him from beneath the cerose's head, but said nothing as he led the animal down the ramp.

The pilot met them at the bottom. "This is as far as I can take you. Beyond this is the Vance territory. Do you need me to pick you back up?"

"Don't bother. We'll find our own way back," Balthier said and then he mounted the cerose. When Sard climbed on, he booted the creature into a trot. After nearly an hour of traveling, Balthier heard Sard sniffing the air.

"What do you smell?"

"Your oasis. Keep heading southeast."

Balthier glanced behind him at the sun. Shadows were starting to lengthen as evening set in. The cerose had been in a steady trot the entire time and it was completely lathered in sweat, and panted heavily under the unbearably hot sun. Balthier pulled back until it stopped and he said, "I think we should walk the rest of the way. The cerose needs a break."

Sard snorted. "It's fine. These beasts are tougher than you give them credit for." But he jumped down regardless and immediately stalked off southeast.

"Maybe so, but I don't care to lug all of our equipment the rest of the way, so let's play it safe, shall we?"

The creature merely grunted in acknowledgment. As was usual of their previous journeys through the landscape, neither of them made idle chat. Balthier hissed as he put a hand to the back of his neck to shade it from the sun. _I've been living with desert weather for three years now. You'd think I'd be used to the heat by now. _He glanced up at Sard and shook his head. _He has all that fur! How on earth could he not be hot?_ The creature seemed as cool and stoic as ever.

It was another half hour or so before Balthier saw what he was certain must be the oasis on the horizon. "Please tell me that is not a hallucination, Sard."

Sard was quiet for a moment and then he said, "It's not a hallucination."

"Oh thank the gods!" He celebrated by taking a long draw from the canteen at his side.

Soon, the wavy green patch on the horizon solidified into a thick forest of pine trees and bushes filling a slight bowl in the sand. The moment they hit the shade, the temperature dropped fifteen degrees and Balthier sighed in relief. He quickly started shedding himself of his vest and shirt and packed them carefully on the cerose. He drained the rest of his canteen and eagerly filled it up with more water, pouring it over his head and shaking it like a dog.

Sard stared.

After a minute or so, Balthier finally felt the stare and he looked back. "What?"

The creature continued to stare at him, his brow furrowed and then he shook his head. "Why in the gods' names did you take off your shirt? Your fair and delicate hume skin will only get burned," he snarled back. "I don't need to hear you bitching about your sore shoulders later."

Balthier scowled. "I have had plenty of experience working in the sun shirtless. I tend not to burn, either, so you shouldn't hear complaints from me tonight. And the sun is going down. We have a few hours of daylight at best, certainly not a whole day's worth! If I was a betting man, I would say you were admiring me."

"You think your puny muscles deserve admiring?" Sard barked a laugh and then pulled off half his jacket and flexed his bicep. "That is muscle, you pathetic hume. Now hurry up, I certainly don't want to dawdle the rest of the day."

"Nor do I. If I know my friends, they'll have quickly dispatched with the General and will be on their way already. How far away is this god, anyway?"

"He's holed himself up in some little lair out here," Sard said. "I would say it's about a day's walk."

Balthier nearly spit out his water. "Are you serious? My friends will be scouring this desert in four hours!"

Sard gave him an exasperated look. "Do you really think your friends will even know where to look?"

"Now that I think about, we certainly neglected to tell anyone the direction we'd be traveling."

"Precisely! For all they know, we headed straight south! It'll be nightfall soon, anyway, and we need to walk through most of it. Does your ship have a search light?"

Balthier shook his head. "A searchlight is not conducive to hiding. There are only outer lights, for when the ship is docked."

"Which is why you have nothing to worry about. Now quit bitching and let's move it."

Balthier splashed more water over his head and capped his canteen. He sighed when he could feel the radiating heat of the sun fall on his back the moment the shade had vanished. The cerose appeared to have recovered some of its luster and it now walked easily behind the hume with its head up rather than drooped from before.

As the sun continued its lazy path down to the horizon, the temperature dropped with it and soon Balthier was putting his shirt to keep the chill of the desert from nipping at his skin. It wasn't long before they were back on the cerose, but instead of Balthier sitting behind the reigns, Sard took them instead.

"Even the cerose's night vision is better than yours," Sard snapped at him and he reluctantly relented.

"I thought you couldn't ride a cerose?"

"Well, you better thank your scrawny hide I can learn fast or I never would've been able to haul you back from Vance."

_Of course, he rode something to Vance! I cannot believe I failed to make the connection till now,_ Balthier thought, although he had had weightier items on his mind at the time.

The hours slowly passed as they continued to press on in the night, and it wasn't long before the steady rocking motion soon had Balthier nodding off to rest on Sard's back. It seemed only a moment later that the Prince-consort bolted awake when the creature roughly shrugged his shoulders. "Go sleep on the ground!"

Balthier blinked roughly, peering around in the absolute inky blackness of the night. "Wait, what? I can see nothing."

"There's nothing _to_ see, you fool."

The Prince-consort's vision slowly grew accustomed to the darkness and could see a vague outline of Sard now standing on the ground. "Now's the time to recover whatever strength you wish," he said. "We are very close to our target's hideout."

Balthier subconsciously gulped at the thought. They were close, they were so close to finishing this, the hume could practically taste victory on his lips. _Settle down, Balthier. 'Twill still be a few hours before we meet anything at all. _He forced himself to take deep breaths and calm his beating heart. He refused to allow his thoughts to get away from them, and immediately shut them out of his mind.

Although he managed to quiet his body, blood still ran swiftly through his veins and it was an hour before he could fall asleep again.

Sard once again woke him up after what seemed only moments of rest, but there was a clear difference in the atmosphere. The sky was splashed a violent red as the sun rose and he could now see the clear outlines of Sard and the cerose. He was a little surprised when the creature appeared in the least concerned about beginning their walk immediately. Instead, Sard sat there, sharpening his knife and occasionally grabbing a piece of dried meat to chew on.

Balthier sat eating his own ration of dried fruit, meat, and a little bit of granola before he could no longer take the tense silence. "Why are we just sitting here? I thought you'd want to hurry us along before the sun rose too high in the sky and drained our energy."

Sard's eyes slid up to his and he held his stare for a long moment. His black eyes were different today: smoky and deep, but still retaining its sharp edge. To Balthier, it appeared he was in a moment of meditation or even reflection. In blatant contrast to the hurried and relentless Sard, this one was completing each morning task they had with a methodical slowness.

"We may have made easy work of the last four Occuria—give or take a few injuries—but this one will be significantly more challenging. He is the leader! Prepare your weapons and focus your mind," Sard replied, "And for the gods' sakes, do not let him prey on any weaknesses!"

Balthier narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but he nodded in agreement. _Weaknesses? What weakness does he know of? Ashe? But how could he use her against me when she's, hopefully, thousands of miles away? _

They continued to sit there until the sun had completely cleared the horizon, and then Sard stood to his paws and said, "Move your ass! We have a god to kill."

The Prince-consort eagerly jumped to his feet, climbed onto the cerose and took his place at the reigns of the animal. Sard yet again slipped into the place behind him and they began their silent and relentless march. Every once in awhile, Balthier would flinch and look at the sky, certain he had heard the unmistakable whine of a ship's engine, but it remained clear of anything save the sun.

They turned right into the sun as Sard instructed and it was only an hour later when the creature stiffened and said, "Stop! This is it."

Balthier blinked at the oasis in front of him and slowly walked the cerose closer. It was only when they were a matter of meters away that he saw a black hole spiraling down into the darkness of the underground. He turned to look back at Sard.

The creature nodded. "He's in there."

**Author's Note: **Please, send a review! Any feedback is helpful!


	31. Chapter 31

**Author's Note: **Thank you Ninquenis and Jess9450 for the reviews. :)

**Chapter 31**

Sard and Balthier were thorough and methodical in their preparations. Their guns were loaded and shot was put in a pouch on their belts for easy access. The cerose was tied to a tree, and then they cautiously began making their way to the cave. At a distance, the mouth barely seemed wide enough for them to stand, but it grew until the ceiling was several feet over their heads.

Sard had his gun to his eye as he slowly walked in. Balthier mimicked the motion, and then the creature stopped and he almost ran into him. An arm caught him in the chest and he was forced back a few steps. "Stay back! I'll go first."

"Whatever you want," Balthier grumbled, rubbing the place where Sard winded him.

They were blinded by the hot white light and the seemingly impenetrable black hole combined, but after a moment their eyes adjusted and they continued deeper into the tunnel.

The high dry walls and winding pathways reminded Balthier of the Zertinan Caverns in Dalmasca. The only difference was that this one was completely devoid of life. The Prince-consort couldn't even see a spider crawling on the walls.

At the second fork in the path, Sard halted yet again. They stood there a moment in silence until Balthier asked, "What is it?"

Sard hissed at him to keep quiet and then he slowly made his way down the right hall. _I suppose I must not be the only one that's nervous, _he thought as he followed.

At the next fork, they could see the left side opened into a vast cavern. Sard peered into it carefully and then he froze.

"Now what?" Balthier asked and then he also saw it. Two vague shapes sat against the far wall with their arms above their heads in chains. "The Princess." He glanced at Sard and received a hard look in return.

The creature pushed him back again with his spare paw and cautiously stepped into the cavern. Annoyance flashed in Balthier's eyes as he watched him, but he was silently wondering, _Where's the Occuria? Why can't we see him?_ The Prince-consort kept expecting the god to jump out in ambush, but all he could hear was his own shaky exhalations. Sard continued to step further into the cave, sweeping the area with the barrel of his gun. When, still, nothing happened, Balthier moved to join him.

A flash of movement from the side and neither one of them had time to react before it wrapped around Sard's body, securing his arms to his side. And then Sard screamed long and loud; his cries echoed against the cave walls as a current of electricity lanced through his body.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!"

Balthier had his mouth open in a silent scream as Sard's never-ending howls compounded on one another. He wanted to howl himself as they continued unbroken, filling the air with and seemingly bouncing around in his own head.

"No, Sard," he tried to yell above the din, but his words were almost immediately swallowed by the long screams.

He rushed over and attempted to pull the thick black rope off—and was immediately filled with a searing pain as the electricity traveled through him as well. Pain generating from his hands forced him to crumple to his knees, and yelled as he looked at his own charred and blistered hands. The noise in the cavern only seemed to build with each passing second, but he struggled to push the distraction away and stare in horror as Sard continued his long and desperate howl.

The Prince-consort was unsure how long the entire scene lasted, but eventually the cries did stop and the long whip cord threw him carelessly to the side before disappearing into the darkness again. Balthier stared at Sard and hardly dared to breathe as he did so. _By the graces of the god—he's dead!_ He gasped when he saw an arm move, but when Sard leveraged himself up he immediately pitched forward and vomited a puddle of blood before he rolled onto his back.

Balthier rushed to his side and carefully peered into his face. "Sard, can you hear me?"

The creature's eyes rolled up towards his, but he spluttered when he tried to talk, choking on his own blood. Blood. It oozed from the corners of his eyes, ears, and nose. Great red and black stripes of charred flesh and missing skin now adorned his body where the whip cord had been. And he gasped for air as though the next breath would be his last.

"Oh gods no," Balthier whispered as he comfortingly stroked Sard's head. _The fight hasn't even begun and the Occuria has already incapacitated Sard. _He glanced down at his own burned hands and back at Sard. He could heal Sard, but the extent of his injuries would drain them both of their precious energy. He wasn't even sure if Sard would even survive the healing process.

Taking a moment to compose himself and call on his courage, he muttered the spell to heal his injured hands, and reached for the sword on Sard's back. "Pardon me, Sard, but I must borrow this from you." He was almost certain he saw the creature smirk at him, but he'd already turned around to face the god.

"Come out and fight me, you coward!"

A chuckle suddenly filled the air and a voice said, "It's so easy to wax heroism when it appears I'm not here."

"I know you're here," Balthier replied. "Slinking in the shadows like a filthy rat. Come out and face me!" The tension building at the inevitable confrontation had now disappeared and the he was surprised that neither fear nor nervousness filled the void. In their place were the confidence he naturally possessed and a quietly building rage that could end the fight.

_Ting ting! _Balthier tapped the Gods' Sword against the ground and said, "We'll see how much I'm waxing when I finally bury this blade into your shriveled heart."

There was a rumble like a clap of thunder and the portly advisor suddenly appeared before him with a smug expression. Balthier immediately hunched into a fighting stance and held the sword high in the air, pointing directly toward the god. It snorted and asked, "Do you really think you can harm me with that pitiful piece of metal?"

"It seemed to do a fine job on your friends," Balthier replied coolly.

"Those fools! They didn't use the full extent of their power," the Occuria sneered.

"That dragon was far more intimidating than you'll ever be," Balthier replied, never taking his eyes off the god. Despite the serious situation, his lips twitched into a small smirk.

The gods eyes narrowed, "Not intimidating, am I?" He vanished in an instant.

Balthier gasped and glanced around the area. _Easy, Balthier, he's still around. Just stay on your toes. _But he could see nothing save for Sard's disturbingly still form, the Princess Amadis and—and Marskot. He almost dropped his guard at the sight of his old friend when the soft whisper of footsteps reached his ear and he turned to face it.

It was a wild beast, silver and galloping on all four paws, it's bright orange eyes burned into his. It leapt with a wide snarl, revealing teeth as long as his small finger. He swung at it, but even as his sword ran clear through it, it faded before his eyes. A second later, he grunted as his body was slammed into the ground from the side.

He rolled with the impact and just as the tell-tale whir of a sword landed with a terrible _clang_ where he had been moments before. He jumped to his feet, just as Sard had trained him to do, and already had the sword raised in defense to parry the god's blade. The silver beast had disappeared and the advisor stood in its place. The god brought his blade down against Balthier's and leaned into it. They were in such close quarters, the Prince-consort could see the red veins in his bloodshot eyes, and his round face was turning a brighter shade of red with each passing moment.

Balthier won out, violently pushing the god back and silently thanking Sard for the training sessions. With a triumphant grin, he pushed the sword into the god, and then he stumbled when the blade glanced off stone.

"Fuck," he screamed into the cavern and whipped around. The Occurian was nowhere to be found. _Okay, Balthier, calm down. He wants you angry. Focus! You really cannot afford a handicap. There is nothing to catch you if you fall. _The thought sobered him and he was soon alert to the quiet of his surroundings.

--a whisper behind him

He jumped to the side and turned around to clumsily counter a violent blow of the Occurian's sword. His wrist stung with the impact and his eyes widened as the hilt slipped in his fingers. The god saw the opening and swung his blade with enough force that it cracked Balthier's hand. He screamed at the pain emanating through his wrist and his sword dropped with a noisy clatter. He glanced up in time to see the god sweep the sword around in a slashing motion and suddenly pain ripped through his chest.

Balthier groaned when he hit the ground, and then he raised his hands up from his chest to find them doused in crimson.

_Oh gods…I've lost. _The thought hit him like a lightning bolt, and he felt his body shiver and a cold numbness enter his hands. The Occuria stepped closer to tower over him. He felt his jaw drop and his eyes widen as despair suddenly washed over him in another paralyzing wave.

He was looking at himself. That same smirk—but now devoid of any amusement—the same dirt encrusted clothes he was wearing now—even the same gun! Only the sword he was holding was different and he pointed this into Balthier's chest.

"I'm sure you know by now that your friends are on their way. I'll meet them in a few hours and tell them of how I was tragically too late to save the Princess Amadis, and how Sard turned on me and I was forced to stick a knife in his back. They'll gladly welcome me back into the fold. Your wife will be so happy to see me. I'll happily make up the last two months up to her, by sending her swiftly your way, but not before I cut her womb open and show your child to her." The smirk grew into a demonic grin and then he threw his head back and laughed, an evil chuckle.

Balthier was unsure if it was the red of approaching death clouding his vision or the white hot rage that coursed through every vein, but he vowed to himself that if he was to die, he would be certain to drag the demon with him. He glanced over at his sword a mere arm's length away, but the god seemed to know what was on his mind and he dug his blade far enough into his chest to cause a sliver of blood to well up around it

"I hate to say it, but you lost. Goodbye, Balthier." He raised the sword up for the last strike.

With quicker reflexes than Balthier thought he possessed, he grabbed for his sword. No! It slipped through his fingers. The Occuria's sword came down and he flinched, the tears already rolling down his face for his failure.

A howl of pain bounced around the room and Balthier opened his eyes in shock. Like a well-heeled dog, Sard had sunk his teeth deep into the Occuria's shin. The god lashed at him, hitting the creature squarely in the jaw with his blade.

But the distraction was enough. Balthier grabbed his sword with his good hand, jumped to his feet, and sunk the blade deep into his imitation's chest. The Occuria gasped and glanced down at the blade as if it wasn't real. The look of fear and pleading in his eyes was seared forever into Balthier's mind, but he quickly pulled the sword out and, with a final swing, beheaded him.

Silence fell once more.

The body seemed to disintegrate right before Balthier's eyes. When all that remained was a vague shadow on the floor, Balthier fell to his knees and cradled his wrist. He quickly whispered his healing spell and then he crawled over to Sard's body. He could just barely see the slow rise and fall of his shoulders from where he lie on his stomach. A pool of blood and spittle oozed out of his mouth and pooled around it. Balthier winced at the sight, but he gently reached out and lightly shook the creature's shoulder.

"Hey, Sard."

His black eyes opened to a slit and his lips moved to whisper words Balthier had to lean closer to hear, "Is it dead?"

Balthier released a shuddering breath and nodded. "It's dead."

He noticed Sard close his eyes and smile ever so slightly. "At last." The hume nodded again in agreement, even as he felt his throat threaten to choke him with anguish. The creature seemed to notice this and rasped, "Save your pity for someone more worthy of it."

Balthier only smiled but it faded quickly when he asked, "I don't suppose you can move, can you? Give me a moment and I'll carry you out to the cerose."

Sard tried to raise his paw, but it merely twitched at his side, so he let his words speak for him, "Just leave me here."

"No."

"I'll only burden you."

"I'm not going to leave you."

Sard appeared ready to refute him again, but Balthier had turned away and ran over to the Princess Amadis and Marskot, who were beginning to stir. The princess, graced with cocoa dark skin and equally dark eyes, saw him coming and shrank back in fear.

Balthier stopped a few steps short and raised his hands. "Don't be afraid. He won't hurt you." Both of them turned to stare at Marskot, whose eyes were like lantern lights in his sunken face. Marskot turned from her and grinned at Balthier. "I knew you'd win."

The Prince-consort smiled down at his friend and said, "I have to admit, Marskot, you're not looking worse for wear."

Marskot gave a derisive snort.

"Don't you worry yourself, Princess. Just give me a minute and I'll have these chains off you." He'd pulled out a pocket knife and quickly picked the lock on both of their chains. He held his hand out for the girl and asked, "Can you walk?"

She quietly took his hand and nodded shyly. _I think Al-Cid should take modesty lessons from her. They'd be a great help in keeping our palace quiet, _he thought. "Then please follow me out. How 'bout you, Marskot? Can you even stand?"

Marskot used the cave wall to pull himself up, but as soon as he got to his feet, Balthier could see his knees visibly shake. At Balthier's questioning gaze, he said, "I can at least make it outside the cave. Just worry about the other guy."

Balthier walked back over to Sard and found his eyes closed; he honestly hoped the creature was getting a well-deserved rest. Carefully placing his hands underneath his shoulders and legs, he easily lifted the creature and they walked out of the cavern.

The Prince-consort grimaced at the sudden bright burning at the end of the tunnel, and then he gagged when he inhaled the hot dry wind. He turned abruptly into the shade of the trees until he found the cerose, calmly eating leaves from a nearby bush. Balthier had to stand on tiptoe to push Sard into the saddle and then he said, "Marskot, get on. You look like you could collapse any minute now."

"I'm a lot stronger than I look," he replied, as he climbed into the saddle, but he wavered once atop the animal.

Balthier gave him a frank look. "I'm strapping you both in." He turned to the Princess, who was standing at the edge of the oasis. "Princess, I'm afraid there's no room for a third person on the cerose. I hope you have no scruples against walking."

"I can walk," she said with a bright smile.

He stared in astonishment when she simply began walking out into the arid open space. He briefly dug into the pack for some rope and wrapped jerky for Marskot to chew on, and after he tied the two onto the cerose, he began tugging it northwest.

As the hours dragged on, their energy inevitably began to wane. Balthier was handing his canteen to Marskot, to keep both him and Sard from overheating, and forgoing water himself. The princess also had a water bag to herself, leading the way north even as the sun continued to scorch the ground beneath their feet.

Balthier walked like a man possessed. His vision wavered and blurred as he stumbled forward, continuously repeating the mantra in his head_, I have to keep going. Keep going. Keep going._ His fight with the Occuria and healing his injuries left him completely drained, and he desired only to collapse on the ground and rest.

"Sir, are you well?" The princess asked.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," he mumbled to her.

"Do you need some water? Perhaps you should rest a few moments."

"No, no, I'm fine. Sard and Marskot can't last," he replied, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Just keep watching."

She disappeared from his vision again and he found himself sink back into his daze. He was unsure of how much further he could continue to walk when his knees abruptly gave out on him. He struggled to keep his eyes open, trying desperately to find the energy to pull himself to his feet yet again, but his arms lie uselessly at his side. His feet stubbornly refused to cooperate and he lay his head back down to the ground once more.

"Sir, sir, are you all right?"

He tried to say 'yes' and only managed a pitiful groan. The princess tilted his head around to try and pour water down his throat, but the majority of it dribbled down his face. What he did manage to drink softened his parched throat, but his head fell back down to the ground and his eyes slid close.

The dark abyss of the dream world occasionally shifted endlessly before his eyes and, at one point, Balthier thought a noise might have awakened him. His eyes fluttered opened and he lifted his head up to see what had disturbed him. He could see several shadows in front of him, lit from behind in the aura of golden light that surrounded them.

"Balthier, Balthier, are you all right?"

He knew that voice. It felt like years since he last heard it, but he could place it. But to whom? His eyes narrowed in suspicion and he shifted restlessly, pulling back from the confusing vision.

"Hey, it's okay, Balthier. We're going to get you out of here."

He felt his heart racing in fear and he again attempted to draw back, but his arms wouldn't cooperate. With another groan, he collapsed again onto the grit and sand, and his dream shifted to the silent, comforting, black abyss yet again.

**Author's Note: **Feedback, please. =)


	32. Chapter 32

**Author's Note: **Work threw an amazing number of shifts at me, so sorry for the lateness.

**Chapter 32**

Balthier could slowly feel himself returning to wakefulness. He moved his head slightly and groaned as he was pulled from the painless depths of limbo. Suddenly a hand with long claws gripped his jaw and slowly poured water down this throat. He immediately tensed up and spluttered. He flung his arm out to push his captor away.

"Geroff me, Sard. Go away," he whispered hoarsely.

"I am not Sard."

His eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright. That ebony skin, those long, white locks and rabbit-like ears.

"Oh my gods…Fran! Is it really you? I'm not dreaming, am I?"

Balthier glanced around the room and immediately recognized it as his personal cabin in the _Strahl_. He pinched his face and kneaded the bed's soft sheets and chocobo feathered pillow. It felt real enough.

Fran smiled—something so rare it was to be appreciated—and she said, "You _are_ aboard the _Strahl_, Balthier, and we are three hours from the Rozarrian capital. Ashe is waiting for you there."

His pulse picked up as the words were relayed to him, but he merely narrowed his eyes in disbelief. Fran noticed his reaction—or lack thereof—and cocked her head at them. "Is something wrong?"

"I've been away from her for so long. How can I believe this is simply not a trick conjured by the gods? They have been playing me like a puppet of late," Balthier confessed and his gaze fell to the bed.

Fran put a hand on his check and brought his eyes up to her. "I have no way of showing you that this is _not_ a trick of the gods, just merely giving you reassurance. You are _safe_ now, Balthier."

He smiled gently at her and said, "Thanks, Fran. I'm just, honestly, surprised to find myself still alive."

Suddenly the door slid open and glanced at it.

"Balthier, you're okay," Vaan cried out and strutted over to him. Penelo was right behind him and she did not hesitate to rush over and crush him in a hug.

"Oh gods, Balthier, it's so good to see you again! You're alive! I thought you were dead for sure, and then when we found you in the desert—It was a close call."

He couldn't keep the chuckle from rumbling in his chest as he gently pried Penelo's arms from around him. "Pardon, Penelo, but I'm a married man. I can't say Ashe would be pleased if you strangled me either."

She stepped back from him with a glare and put her fists on her hips. "Don't you dare joke like that, Balthier. You have no idea what she's been through in regards to your death. Why'd you do it?"

Suddenly his eyes flashed and he argued, "You have no idea what the hell _I've _been through! Ever thought there was, perhaps, a legitimate reason to it? Don't even think it didn't torture me every day to continue with what I had to do while my wife and everyone else I hold dear thought me dead! You know nothing!"

Penelo recoiled at the anger. She had never known Balthier to show such a powerful emotion. Exasperation, irritation, and curtness, most certainly, but rage? This was new.

"I-I-I'm sorry, Balthier. I had no idea."

The anger fell away immediately and it was then that Penelo could see faint lines in his face that gave away the stress. He no longer appeared to her the handsome, carefree, young man from five years earlier. Instead, he now bore an indescribable weight and the wisdom of a tried man.

"I'm sorry. It's okay. I've just been…bearing this for so long, I'd forgotten what it was like to have no worries."

"The General mentioned torture on your quest," Geoffrey suddenly spoke from the doorway. "Is it true?"

Balthier glanced around the room, noting their now grim expressions and, in Penelo and Vaan's case, pale visages. Then he slowly nodded and said in a whisper, "Yes." He raised his hands up that still bore the scars of the thick nails that had been hammered threw them and the humes cringed at it.

Fran pulled his hands down abruptly and said, "But that is over and done. You need not dwell on it now."

He was certain the disbelief showed on his face, but then he asked, "Where is Sard?"

Penelo shifted uneasily on her feet and all other expressions were somber.

"Well?"

"I'm sorry, Balthier, but…he's been so badly injured. If I tried to heal him I might kill him. There's really nothing we can do for him, but hope," Penelo said.

Balthier nodded and then he asked, "And what of Marskot? How's he?"

Vaan and Penelo's face darkened with rage, however Fran remained neutral and she answered for them, "He is in the equipment room in the _Strahl_, tied and gagged."

"Release him immediately," Balthier said.

Fran nodded and immediately swept out of the room to do so, but Vaan and Penelo only gaped. "Wh-what? H-how can you just let him go?! He killed you!—or nearly so."

Balthier raised his eyebrows. "And? I still happen to be alive. You will release him."

"He almost killed Vaan! How could you possibly wish him to be free?"

"Whatever crimes he committed since my death, he cannot possibly be blamed for. He was possessed by the Occuria. In fact, he nearly broke me out of prison when I was being tortured. He deserves his respect and dignity back. Now, I must go see Sard."

"Are you sure you should be getting up?" Vaan asked, reaching out with an arm to steady him, but faltering when Balthier stood.

"I'm fine. Now, which room is he in?"

"In Fran's."

The Prince-consort left his room without another word, making his way quietly down the deserted hall. In a ship as small as the _Strahl_, Fran's room was naught but a few feet away and when he got there, he hesitated. Finally, he mastered his will and palmed the door open which slid silently. He stared at the prone form in sadness as he noticed that bandages were wrapped carefully around his electrical burns.

He was diminished. A shadow of the beast he once fled from in absolute terror and the one whom he joined with unhidden loathing. _Good Gods, Sard, you were never meant to be seen near death. _

Balthier grabbed a chair from a corner of the room and placed it quietly next to the bed and sat down. He hesitated to grab his paw, knowing full well Sard would neither want it or appreciate it.

"Stop that."

It was a death rattle, but it was enough to make Balthier jump in surprise before he leaned over the creature. "Sard, you're awake."

"Save your pity," he whispered as though it cost him all of his energy. "There are far more….pathetic fools deserving of it."

Balthier couldn't help but smile at that. "I don't know, Sard. I doubt there are any who look quite as pathetic as you do at the moment. You do not wear injuries very well."

Sard's eyes were mere slits as he tried to open them and he could see the creature's fingers twitch as he tried to move them.

"Don't waste your energy, Sard. Remember, I'm not even worth a moment of your time," Balthier replied, but there was a sad frustration in his voice and eyes. He saw Sard narrow his eyes in suspicion—it was hard to tell from the creature's obvious exhaustion—and he felt that they finally reached an understanding.

"Care for something to drink? I'll make your favorite," Balthier said.

Sard rolled his eyes, but he did see him give a slight nod of his head.

"I'll be back in a few minutes."

Balthier felt like a machine as he moved down the hall, every movement calculated and careful. He was pleased to see that there was at least two small pouches of the Turvema leaves and the Muren flower petals. He even had that dash of Cinnamon Sard had mentioned in the recipe that felt like he had heard it eons ago rather than a matter of months.

"Hey, Balthier, whatcha makin'?" Vaan asked from behind him.

The Prince-consort did not jump this time, but he turned weary eyes to the boy and said, "I'm making a drink for Sard. His request."

"Oh yeah….he's in pretty bad shape. D'ya think he's going to make it?"

Balthier could not keep the small smile from his face.

"What?"

"No, I do not think he will make it. It is better this way," he replied, as he slowly ground up the ingredients.

"How can that be? It's never good when someone dies!"

Balthier frowned pensively at him. "To someone so young, it does seem a horrible prospect. But for someone like Sard, who has been around death so often, who seeks it out as well as deals it. It seems a mere trifling matter to him."

"Whatever," Vaan replied.

As the boy was leaving, though, Balthier called out to him, "It seems interesting to me that you wish a creature like Sard to stay alive and yet you'd want to condemn a man like Marskot to death. Sard has committed far more murders than you can ever imagine. What makes him so different in your eyes compared to Marskot, who has committed no murders?"

"He saved all of us, didn't he? That dragon would've killed a lot of people for sure," Vaan replied.

"Including, very likely, yourself. You lacked the weaponry to destroy it, even if you had the courage. Courage alone can't always see you to your goal. Sard certainly had courage, but he had the weapon and the motivation. He is not a coward by any stretch of the imagination, but it certainly was not out of some selfless desire to help others."

Vaan apparently had no answer and he left the galley while Balthier stirred the concoction. When the drinks were done, Balthier sprinkled the cinnamon onto Sard's and took the tray of two cups to him.

He found the creature much like he had left him, prone and seemingly resting, but the creature's eyes opened again the moment he sat back down. "Here's yours, with a little extra spice added to it."

Sard began to sip, but he immediately stopped and glanced up at him, eyes wider than they had been. Balthier nodded, nursing his own cup, and the creature continued drinking until the very last drops were drained and he lie back with a contented smile.

Balthier cocked his head at him. "Are you happy, Sard?"

"I will be," he rasped.

A minute later, Balthier watched him grimace and he bucked a little in discomfort. He longed to reach out and do something to soothe him—hold his paw, hold him down, anything!—but he knew Sard would only slap him away. A minute later he slumped back with a final sigh.

Balthier sat there for another five minutes, slowly sipping his drink away, and when the cup was empty, he reached over to feel for a pulse on the creature. There was none. Sard was dead. He stood silently and grabbed both of their cups to take back to the galley. He nearly ran into Penelo outside the room and she gaped up at him with large questioning eyes.

He pursed his lips and shook his head slightly. "He's dead."

"Oh…"

"I'll move his body into the cargo hold after I clean this up."

"You don't have. I mean, you've been through a lo—"

Balthier smiled. "I want to. I'm not so weak that I can't carry a body."

"Okay. We'll be in port in just a little over an hour."

"Thank you, Penelo."

* * *

Queen Ashelia Bunansa waited at the private landing pad at the Royal Palace and she did nothing to hide her agitation. She twisted her fingers and bounced on the balls of her feet as she waited, barely daring to breathe.

Fran had sent a message ahead several hours ago that they had found Balthier—alive!—and were bringing him to the palace. Ashe was certain it was only going to be a matter of minutes before the _Strahl_ flew into view and gracefully landed.

"Ashe, are you all right? You shouldn't excite yourself too much," Sari said from right next to her.

"I'm fine," she replied, but her voice was breathy.

"Try to relax, Ashe. Fran herself said he was alive."

"But what if she's wrong? What if this _isn't_ Balthier?"

"It is him. I know no other man who can encompass all that charm and wit and have that much outstanding courage. He's _always_ been like that. He's alive."

Her mind didn't want to believe it was true. After two and a half months of believing he was dead, she had her doubts. The fear that it was a man somehow posing as him or that he may have changed irrevocably had been eating at her all day.

_Fwooooom!_

Her heart picked up its tempo even as she felt her blood run cold in her veins. _He's here. _She never blinked once as the _Strahl_ carefully positioned herself on the landing pad and slowly set down. There was a moment where all was silent and then with a quiet whir, the boarding stairs were lowered.

There he was! Her mouth fell open as she gaped openly at him. Even from this distance, she could see the new lines near his eyes and the clear lack of a smirk usually decorating his handsome face.

Balthier in turn also stared. _My gods, she looks more radiant than when I left her, _he thought, hardly daring to breathe should it suddenly disappear. He cautiously stepped down onto the ground and carefully made his way toward her, stopping short more than an arm's distance away. He reached out to her, but dared not to touch her, until she too reached for his hand.

He smiled at her, and then all at once pulled her in for a soul-searing kiss. Tears leaked from her eyes and she felt an uncontrollable grin pull her lips back. _Only Balthier would break protocol like this! _Her blood was running hot in her veins now and all at once she felt life returning to every inch of her skin, a certain luster it had been lacking since he died. He was squeezing her so tight she thought she had melded to his body and he continued to kiss her until stars from lack of air began dotting her eyes.

Balthier finally let go of her and rested his forehead against hers. "I thought I would _never_ see you again," he said in a wavering voice. She pulled back to look into his face to see tears filming his own eyes, and then she pulled him into another tight hug. Words completely failed her.

She finally felt him pull away and she pulled back, smiling beautifully up at him. It faltered when he did not return the smile as fully and she asked, "Is something wrong."

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come and he merely closed his mouth and shook his head. She noticed a set of tears from his eyes and then he wrapped his arms around her in another fierce hug, planting delicate kisses on her neck, her collarbone, her cheek, her forehead—anywhere he could reach.

"I've missed you all these long months, Balthier. I felt I would never be whole again."

Then she felt him chuckle. "You know what they say about the Leading Man?"

Her smile broadened once more. "I'm afraid I don't. What do they say?"

"He never dies," he replied in a whisper and suddenly he appeared to her again as the young and handsome sky pirate he had been five years ago, for that same smirk was on his face now.

It faded though, as he turned back toward the _Strahl_. Ashe had completely forgotten that they were not alone and she glanced around the hangar. Geoffrey and Basch were standing several feet away to give them privacy, but they were both smiling at them. Fran and Vaan and Penelo also stood quietly by the _Strahl_, the children grinning cheerfully at the display, but there was an unmistakable body draped in a white cloth just a few feet away. On their other side, Ashe saw Sari seemingly squeezing the very life out of Marskot.

Ashe's smile vanished and she felt her heart pound in fear. Marskot. He was the cause of all her suffering these long months. She had half a mind to end his happy moment with a summon to the guards, but Balthier stopped her before she could. "Pay no mind to him. It was the Occuria who tried to kill me, not him. Let him alone."

He walked over to the lump on the floor and abruptly pulled back the sheet to reveal a wolf-like creature. "This one was likely our greatest illegal threat to worry about, but as you can see, he is no more. I would like to take him back to Rabanastre with us for a proper burial."

"He was your partner, wasn't he, Balthier? Fran mentioned such a creature attacking her before the both of you stole the _Strahl_." A smile flitted across Balthier's face at that memory. "May I ask how he died?"

"An Occurian electrocuted him before we even had the chance to make our stand, or even see him. But even then, he managed to distract the Occurian long enough for me to kill him. And the rest is history."

"Oh come off it, Balthier! You know we want to hear what you've been doing. I mean, battling a dragon?! And you won! You faced the Occuria? You gotta tell us how you did it," Vaan exclaimed with a grin.

"No storytelling tonight. I'm weary of travel and toil," Balthier said to him and at that moment, the exhaustion could be seen in his face and eyes.

"Then let us take our rest. I'm sure His Royal Highness would let us spend the night here once before we take leave on the morrow," Ashe replied. She reached down with a hand and Balthier gladly took it from his kneeling position.

* * *

In their private quarters, Ashe nearly sang as she got ready for bed. She could not keep herself from smiling and a constant tune hummed from her throat as she changed into a nightgown. She left the powder room, fully expecting to find Balthier completely undressed but he merely sat on the bed, starting into some far unknown plane.

She furrowed her brow at him and slowly came into his view, trying to catch his eyes. "Balthier, are you all right?"

His amber eyes finally connected with hers and then he cast them to the right. "I've changed, Ashe. Far more than you may ever know and I'm not talking just up here," he said, pointing to his head. "I know you think me vain for ever taking pride in my good looks and winning charm," and here he smiled brightly at her, "but it does matter to me, even if I believe it matters little to you. I didn't worry about it while out there, battling for my life. I had more important things to worry about. But now…"

"What do you mean, Balthier? I know they tortured you, so what sca—"

"I daren't speak of it. I suppose, the only way you can know, is if I show you." He slowly started dispatching of his clothes and then finally he pulled off his shirt, and she found herself gaping at him yet again. But instead of the flawless tan skin she had come so use to seeing, a giant, red scar stretched down from his left shoulder to his mid torso.

"—My gods! What happened to you?" Ashe whispered reaching over to trace several of the scars.

"That isn't quite all of them," he murmured and held up his palms to her. Even in the dim light she could see the shine white scars that seemed to stretch across the entirety of each palm.

"You were tortured?"

Balthier sighed, but kept his eyes down in defeat.

"How in Ivalice can you be ashamed of yourself?"

"To be honest, I am actually astonished to be alive at all. Every day for the last three months, I've been convinced I was going to die. Never once did I believe we had any chance at all against the Occuria," Balthier said, peering straight into her eyes.

"But you did survive and you did kill them. There are no more," Ashe said, cupping his cheek with her hand. "You are a singly remarkable man, Balthier. Several years earlier, you _thought_ you were on top of the world, the king of it all." He smiled sadly at the memory. "Now, we _both_ know, you _are_ on top of the world and there is no man, on the ground or in the heavens, that can best you."

He suddenly stood up abruptly, towering over her and peering down into her eyes, "I suppose that is the role of the Leading Man. To not just strive to be the best, but to be it by the end of the Play. But, of course, the Leading Man is nothing without his Leading Lady." He kissed her again, taking no time forcing her mouth open to kiss her more forcefully.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed blissfully into his mouth.

"Yes, but the main goal of the Leading Man is to satisfy his partner, which has been sorely lacking of recent."

"Well, I'll have to remedy that."


	33. Chapter 33

**Author's Note: **Uggh, college. At any rate, sorry for the delay again. Expect the Epilogue in a day or two, hopefully. Also, thank you, Pellaerian, Ninquenis, and Jess9450 for the reviews! I very much appreciate it! =)

**Chapter 33**

"Must we go through this? Again." Balthier grumbled from beside his wife, pulling at the collar on his military uniform and scowling vociferously.

"Unfortunately, yes," Ashe replied with a far too sincere smile on her face. "You were thought dead for three months. The people must know you are truly alive and well!"

"Fine, but that could be easily achieved by simply appearing on the dais in front of the palace for a quarter of an hour. There doesn't need to be a huge parade," he said. It had taken all of his willpower to keep from blushing beet red at the parade thrown when he and Ashe had been married. If it were all up to him he would've married her in private. Hell, he probably would've never married, but simply rendezvoused secretly with her for a weekly ravishing.

"But this is cause for celebration! The father of my child will be alive at his birth, will be able to watch him grow. It might not have less import to my people, but it is important to me."

"Ah, so you like flaunting your catch. I should've known."

"If that's how you see it. Now, my trophy husband, behave and try to wave a little."

"Don't push your luck."

It had been only two days since they reunited, but Balthier was astonished to find that the palace event coordinators had still managed to pull together an astonishing parade in honor of his return.

Before they left on their flight to participate in this parade, Balthier had asked, "What's going to happen to Sard?"

"I beseeched the Margraces to release his body to us, despite being a citizen of their country, as you requested. Once we get settled back into Dalmasca, we'll hold a heroic funeral in his honor." She saw a frown flit across his face in a single split, but it was quickly fixed back to neutral.

She narrowed her eyes for a moment but then she quickly pushed it from her mind. There were more important things to focus on, she decided when he suddenly wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

Now as they stood on the central float, Ashe kept a solid grip on his arm as though she's still not convinced he was there with her. He glanced over to her and offered her a customary smirk.

It vanished the moment the trumpets began blaring their entrance and she very nearly elbowed him in the ribs to keep him from rolling his eyes in exasperation. He kept a stolid expression over the next half an hour, occasionally raising his arm up to wave stiffly at the cheering people around them.

At one point she leaned in to whisper in his ear, "Just keep your rant bottled up for another fifteen minutes and then we'll be at the palace."

"Oh thank the go-"

She glanced over at him in curiosity, surprised to see his mouth suddenly clamped shut and his eyes staring upward into the sky. _He's certainly showing quite a few strange ticks today, _she mused but was afraid to push him for information.

It had been difficult to pry even a modicum of history of his childhood and she knew she could not push him to tell her about this recent adventure. She could sense that he was keeping it close to the chest and wondered if he ever might tell the tale of his adventure. She was pulled from her thoughts when she felt the slow stop of their float coming to a rest and then they gracefully walked off it and towards the palace. She couldn't keep her own smirk from finding its way onto her face when she felt Balthier's exasperatedly tugging her along quickly to the dais so that she could begin her speech.

Ashelia never considered herself a weepy person. She did not cry even when she had reclaimed her city from the clutches of Vayne Solidor five years ago, but she had to furiously blink her eyes to keep the tears from sliding down her face now.

"Good afternoon, my citizens," she started and her words were met with an appreciative roar. "Today is a day for all of Dalmasca to celebrate. After three months of traveling the globe anonymously, the Prince-consort has returned to our beautiful country!"

"But, before we celebrate his return, the Prince-consort and I would like to apologize for inciting undue worry and doubt of the sanctity of our kingdom. Hidden forces which conspired against our newfound peace have been confronted and dealt with, so that peace may continue to flourish in Ivalice."

Ashelia always prided herself on speaking to her people without a speech, preferring to be honest rather than rehearsed, but she struggled now with her message, since Balthier had failed to tell her anything of his three-month absence. She presumed merely from what he had mentioned the night they were reunited. As much as she knew him a free spirit, he had long stopped running from his problems after his father died. He would never have put himself at risk for torture if not for a compelling reason.

"We can put these last three months behind us and look again toward the horizon." She almost faltered when she felt Balthier come up behind her, the heat from his body searing her skin. She sidled over to share the podium, hoping that her people couldn't tell how utterly perplexed she was.

"Good citizens. I received knowledge of a personal threat on her Highness and, though I regret the turmoil the Kingdom was forced to endure, I pursued that threat to protect my queen and our child," he said and was met with a stunned silence, and then he stepped back for Ahe to resume her position.

"And Dalmasca could ask no more of our Prince-consort. It is what our soldiers fight for—not just for king and country but his own family. Our Prince-consort Captain Balthier Bunansa has fulfilled the oath he swore to when he first took my hand in marriage and in doing so, places the welfare of Dalmasca above all in his life. Hail, Captain Bunansa," Ashe spoke to the kingdom.

"Hail, Captain Bunansa," the crowd shouted.

Balthier briefly brushed his hand against her elbow to let her know his tolerance was waning, and she gladly linked her arm with his and they walked past the open doors and into the sanctuary of the palace.

"Why did you do that?"

"You were struggling. I could sense it."

"When has that stopped you from speaking on my behalf? You would usually let me suffer."

Balthier stopped in the hallway, leading to their suite and peered squarely into her eyes, "You both deserved the truth."

Ashe stood up to place a chaste kiss on his lips. When they finally made it to their suite, Balthier sighed and immediately stripped the uniform off and threw it haphazardly to the floor. He suddenly looked up as he was pulling on another shirt, when he realized his wife continued to stand by the door, her head down but he could see a pensive look on her face.

"What's wrong? Please tell me you didn't let Al-Cid seduce you. I could've killed him while we were still in Rozarria."

She smiled and then said, "I'm afraid it was I that did the seducing."

He hissed in admiration. "I knew you were a cunning seductress, but I was certain I was your only victim."

However, the smile disappeared and she asked, "When will I know?"

"The story?" When she nodded, he smiled back. "When it's dead and buried."

Ashe opened her eyes sleepily, trying to see through the dark. She reached over to touch Balthier and when her hand met nothing, she sat bolt upright desperately trying to see through the darkness.

"Sorry, Princess. I didn't mean to wake you," Balthier mumbled in the dark. A single candle was lit as he fiddled with something his pack.

She audibly sighed and lay back down, but then she asked, "Where are you going?"

"I promised Fran I'd go hunting with her on the Phon Coast. I will be back tonight," he said quietly her eyes were still but she still felt his shadow fall on her. She smiled at the soft kiss he left on her cheek and drifted off to sleep again.

Ashelia was going about her royal duties, speaking to the ambassadors of their deals and problems, trade and otherwise when Geoffrey came walking in. He stayed back until she finished her conversations, but he shifted restlessly even as he tried to keep his composure.

"Yes, lieutenant?"

"My Lady, Dr. Raini wishes to see you immediately," he relayed the message. He noticed her eyes widen and he hurriedly said, "It has nothing to do with Captain Bunansa. He's still on his hunting trip with Fran."

She closed her eyes, but recomposed herself without a hitch. "Lead the way, Lieutenant," she replied.

"I apologize if I alarmed you, My Lady, but the doctor was very alarmed himself."

"Did he mention what happened?"

Ashe could not keep her heart from pounding regardless. A terrible sense of déjà vu swept over her and it took all of her willpower to keep from turning on her heels back the way she came. When they reached the Infirmary Ward, they could see the doctor pacing the hall in an agitated motion.

When he saw them, he stopped and said," He's gone!"

"Who's gone?" Ashe asked.

"That creature's body is gone! He was in cold storage last night and he's no longer there this morning." He showed them into the room and gestured to the empty stasis bed.

"Not again," Ashe replied, shaking her head in wonderment.

Balthier had long lost his shirt as he threw another shovel full of dirt over his shoulder, glad the soil in the Salika Woods was soft and loose. He and Fran had reached the Salika Wood just an hour after dawn but he left her at the ship as he carried Sard's body deep into the woods.

"I'm probably doing Sard a bigger favor than he deserves," he muttered to himself, but he glanced over at the body shrouded in white sheet and he continued digging.

By noon he had a shallow grave and threw the creature's body. He picked up the shovel again and was about to throw the dirt back on when he hesitated and picked up Sard's old gun. Of custom design, unique to antiquity, a rare prize to possess. He ran his thumb over the silver inlaid design—two stylized dragons snaking up to the end of the barrel with a spout of fire each. A treasure of such beauty would be a contribution either to his own antiquity collection or a museum's, and he certainly was not opposed to grave-robbing, but then he laid it down, purposely wrapping Sard's paws around it.

"For a creature who had little else in your life, I suppose it would be best to let you have your one possession. However, the sword will stay with me," he said with an amused smirk on his lips, glad that no one could see him talking to the air. Then he finally took the shovel and slowly began replacing the dirt until the site was flat and he spread the extra dirt around on the forest floor.

He stood back to admire his handiwork and then nodded to himself. Finally he said, "Goodbye, Sard. I hope you've found what you're looking for. This place should give you at least a small amount of peace."

Balthier glanced up, taking in the occasional wheeling shafts of sunlight that penetrated the thick foliage of the canopy and chuckled. The creature was more fitted to be buried in a battlefield, but it was the closest he could get, knowing Sard was exceedingly more comfortable in the wild forest than he had ever been in the city.

He finally left and went back to Fran who was standing outside the ship, making him wonder if she'd moved at all when he left her. "I had to do it, Fran. I owed him everything and I could not bear to remain in his debt, whether dead or not. Now, I can sever my ties. This is where it ends."

"Good for you," she simply said, and headed back into the ship.

"Now, I suppose we really should go hunting if we want a convincing alibi."

The next day, Ashelia quietly made her way up the stairs to Balthier's office. He had gotten home late as he had promised, but a nagging feeling directed her feet toward him. _Balthier may have vocally given up his former profession, but his skills did not vanish in the same instant._ She found him propped in his chair reading a parchment with his cat Artemis already attached to his lap. He lowered it when he saw her and she saw a smirk growing on his face.

"Now, I know I got in late, but I thought your midnight delight was sufficient. Already back for more?"

Despite her good feelings she merely continued staring at him at him with only the barest hint of a smile on her face. He finally sighed and said, "What? Are the Ambassadors driving you up the wall? It was your idea to hold trades meetings with them."

"Enough with the smokescreen, Balthier. You stole Sard's body, didn't you?"

He gave up his façade instantly and held his head to stare down his nose at her. "What if I did?"

But now that she had gotten him to admit it, she did not quite know what to say. Lectures of legality would fall deaf on his ears, so she tried through another approach. "We were going to give him a hero's funeral and you took that from him!"

The smirk disappeared from Balthier's face, replaced by a cold expression. "Sard was not a hero!"

"Of course he was. He helped you with whatever you needed done. He had _slain_ the dragon, a feat that had been tried and failed at numerous times before his attempt. The world is in his debt."

"Sard never cared about the world, only himself. If you think he did what he did through some misguided feeling of honor or good deed, then you certainly never had to work with him. Yes, his feat was great, but that doesn't mean he would want to be celebrated. I followed his wishes more closely than you did."

She sighed. _I knew coming up here and trying to persuade him to see reason would be fruitless._

"Are you going to arrest me, my Queen?"

She shook her head. "No, Balthier, there really is no point."

"That's a shame. I rather like it when you do." She chuckled at his lechery and a comfortable silence fell between them. Then Balthier broke it, "If you're really curious to hear what Sard was _really_ like, be sure to gather an audience in the dining chambers tonight."

Ashe brought her head up, a new question in her eyes. "Oh?"

"I will tell the tale's entirety tonight and only tonight and then the questions about it shall cease."

"Very well. I thought you might wait weeks or the entirety of your lifetime to relay that story."

"I did say, 'when it's dead and buried.' Sard was the only loose end."

"As you wish, I shall relay the message through the court. How large an audience are you willing to speak to?"

"As large as you wish, but I stress again, I am only saying this once. I will _not_ be interrupted."

Ashelia had spent the afternoon sending flurries of letters to various noble figures within the Dalmascan providence as well as inviting the Rozarrian Royal Family and the Emperor Larsa Solidor. Vaan, Penelo, and Fran had been staying in Rabanastre before they went off adventuring again and gladly took advantage of their invitation to hear the story in more than vague detail.

It was the quietest function the Queen had ever hosted. No one dared speak above whisper and so a sound hardly louder than a hissing of a candle filled the hall, speculating of just what was about to unfold. Half a dozen scribes sat with their fingers hovering over the keys of their typewriters, ready to type the tale down in all of its length. Larsa had appeared early in the evening with his entourage of Judges. Al-Cid was sent as the only member of the royal family, and for once the flamboyant ambassador was absolutely silent, his eyes fixed on the Prince-consort.

Balthier sat next to the Queen Ashelia, resting his chin on his clasped hands and staring at the space in front of him. He had yet to say more than a few words to anyone and he barely noticed when Ashe touched his shoulder and asked him when he would be ready. It started him from his reverie and he whispered, "I'm ready now."

He slid out of his seat and took his goblet of water up to the podium the queen usually sat so that her voice was easily projected through the hall. Balthier let his eyes fall on every face in the hall which stared back at him solemnly. Even Vaan and Penelo were being uncharacteristically serious. Hardly a soul dared to breathe in the room.

"Yesterday, I spoke to the people of Dalmasca that I had been pursuing criminals whom had issued a threat to our queen. Now, I will lend you the details to fill in the blanks. This retelling will take many hours and I will _not_ be interrupted. At one point, there will be a break so that I might refresh my voice, but there will be no other time I will talk over any other voices. Is that clear?"

No one dared speak a word as he glared around at all of them, garnering nods from several people who were surprised and a little wary of his sudden commanding behavior.

"Very well. This tale begins rather quietly on a day like any other here in the palace. Only this day, my dear friend Marskot Demarlgen came for a visit and to beseech my help…" And so the story went on.

He detailed the houses they visited, describing the various states of decay they found each of them in, how the atmosphere lie as heavy on them as the stagnant, humid air of Rozarria. There was a collective inhale of air when he described the stuffed bounty hunters, posed in differing states of attack and he saw people lean back in discomfort as he relayed the chase through Sard's mansion.

As the story went on, the candles burned lower and not a single person spoke a word save for Balthier as he continued. Every once in a while there was a break in the narration, when he refreshed his voice with another gulp of water and each time the audience stirred ever so slightly as if a spell had been lifted. As soon as the first words started from his mouth again, the movement would cease and all eyes would fix back onto the Prince-consort.

Dawn was peaking over the horizon when Balthier finally finished, his voice slightly hoarse from all the long hours he had spoken and he appeared visibly tired to the rest of the crowd: his shoulders were slumped in exhaustion and dark circles ringed his eyes, but when he lifted his head after a long pause Ashe thought that a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He smiled genially to the audience once again rested his chin on his clasped hands and let his eyes drift shut.

It took several minutes for the audience to make a move, but then a sudden crack sounded in the hall that jolted all but Balthier. Larsa Solidor was clapping. It was soon after that everyone all around soon began their round of applause until it grew to an enthusiastic den.

When the clapping died down, the people began speaking to one another excitedly, relating each event of the story. Then suddenly a shout sounded through the hall.

"How do we know what you just said was true?"

All eyes fell on a particularly tall and young noble, sneering at Balthier down his long nose. His shout was met mostly with scowls by those who knew Balthier, but the silence hung in the hall.

Balthier opened his eyes with a tranquility that few had ever seen in him and he smiled down at the man with neither malice nor sarcasm. His eyebrows shot up and his shoulders shook with the chuckles. "If you feel you must know whether what I've told you is verifiable, ask Marskot Demarlgen and his wife. If you do ask Marskot, be sure it ask him only about the beginning and then his wife will verify the second half of the story. Unfortunately, the only other person that could possibly tell you that my story is in no way embellished is dead and buried yesterday morning. Or perhaps you would like to take it up either the King and Queen Margrace of Rozarria, and their General, Al-Tamir. Otherwise, all you can simply do is trust me."

"There is no lie behind Captain Bunansa's words," Al-Cid suddenly stood up and glared at the man, who wilted under both of them. "My family owes my sister's life to him and his partner Sard, as well as you owe your own to him! From what I gathered from my father, the good King Margrace, every word that Balthier has spoken of now is true."

Balthier nodded his head in gratitude at his former rival, and then he stood up. "It has been a long night and I must retire. Farewell!" He stopped only to hold out his hand for Ashe and she took it to walk out with him.

"I should have probably stayed to show our guests to the door," Ashe said.

"Don't worry about them. Geoffrey will take care of it," Balthier mumbled in reply.

They were quiet for a few minutes and then Ashe said, "Even though I know every word was true, I still have difficulty believing you would do all of this for me. Any other man would've faltered at the feet of the Gods' but you persevered. I am grateful to you and I cannot help but swell with pride at the thought, but why? Why would you endure so much for simply me?"

Balthier chuckled and replied, "We're talking about the Occuria, Ashe. I knew full well they would never simply set aside their vengeance, and with someone like Sard I had the best opportunity to face them and we emerged victorious." He stopped and turned to her, the humor now gone. "As I said before, you have no idea how much I dearly wanted to simply run, to hide away from the problem and emerge to ravi—" she elbowed him in the ribs—"oof, I mean, make love to you one more time."

She rolled her eyes but said, "No words can express how grateful I am, Balthier. I certainly remember what it was like four years ago when we were fighting Vayne for my country's freedom, constantly being waylaid by the Occuria, and that was one adventure I thought could not be more dangerous. I dare say, I cannot fathom what you went through."

"Dwell on it no more because I don't intend to. Now, the doctor said you need rest!"

Behind the closed door of their suite, she could feel his lips planting light kisses all along the back of her neck and shoulders. "Somehow I don't think this is quite what the doctor had in mind when he said 'rest.'"

"After spending all night in a stiff chair, I daresay a fling in the bed is well worth the extra minutes."


	34. Epilogue

_Epilogue_

Balthier sat bolt upright, clutching his chest and glancing around in the room of vague objects and silver beams. He was completely soaked in sweat and he began taking deep breathes to calm his racing heart. Five months and he still woke up with violent nightmares. Like clockwork he would jolt awake at a god's awful hour of the night with crisp images of the last Ocurria gutting him or the dragon breaking all the bones in his body with one savage bite. He had thought that taking the step forward and putting the journey behind him, would put even the memories to rest, but he almost inevitably woke up with some fresh violent image.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts it took him a moment to realize someone was tugging on his shirt sleeve. Ashe was staring silent up at him and he noticed a sheen of tears in her eyes.

"Are you well, Ashe?" He whispered.

"He's coming."

Balthier immediately jumped out of bed and pulled on a pair of pants and a different shirt. "I'm going to bring the doctor," he said quietly and gave her hand a squeeze before he left.

He swept out of the room and swiftly walked down the hall, his heart pounding again with a different type of fear. _Why the hell is the Infirmary on the other side of the palace? _ He wondered when he finally slid to a stop and impolitely banged on the doctor's door.

"Doctor, wake up, it's urgent! Ashe is giving birth!" Balthier stopped the pounding when he heard shuffling on the other side, and then the door was yanked open violently to reveal the doctor peering alertly at him.

"How far apart are the contractions?"

"I'm not sure, but she's certainly _uncomfortable_," Balthier stressed and the both of them immediately recognized the implication: Ashe worked hard to never show her pain.

"Very well. Wake her chambermaids for me, please."

"All right," Balthier acquiesced and walked back with Doctor Raini to his suite with Ashe, but he went down a flight of stairs to knock on the servants' quarters. "Ladies, Doctor Raini needs you," he replied when one had opened the door a crack. "It's time." They closed the door and Balthier turned to go back to his wife.

He found her breathing heavily and lying back on the pillows of their bed, her sweat-slicked hair splayed behind her. Balthier sat down next to her and placed a hand gently on hers and he took it, "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," she replied in an amazingly strong voice.

He glanced back at her swollen belly and said, "You realize this was all your idea? I warned you any child we'd have would be a hellraiser, but you insisted."

Ashe chuckled. "It was the council who insisted."

"They should be forced to come in here and hold your hand to pay the penance for their decisions. I should go wake them just for that! Please break the bones in their hands for me, would you?"

"Balthier, you—are not going to wake them."

"Please?"

There was a knock on the door and then it opened for the three Chambermaids to file in.

"Ah, very good! The first one there, please fetch me a bowl of warm water and a towel," Dr. Raini said, "And the other two, please go get me another set of sheets. Now, Captain Bunansa, I'm sorry to say we have a tradition here. You must leave the room."

"I am not leaving, tradition be damned," he replied with a flash of his eyes.

The doctor smiled. "You will not be the first man I've evicted from the room. Guards!"

It took the doctor himself and three guards to drag Balthier from his wife's side and they shoved him out the door, leaving only the doctor to be inside. Two guards flanked the door and eyed him like wolves eyeing their prey.

"Sorry 'bout that, Captain, but tradition is a big deal around here," Geoffrey replied with a grin.

Balthier scowled heavily at the guard and obviously bit back some choice words for the young man to hear. "Fucking tradition. Tradition is what gets us into some of these messes."

"That is true, but at least with something like this it isn't going to alter the course of Dalmasca if you're _not_ there for your child's birth."

"So you want me to start off feeling like a shitty father from the beginning? I completely understand," Balthier replied and sat down, heading towards the Dining Hall.

Geoffrey sighed and started after him. "Balthier, if it makes you feel better, I'm in complete agreement with you."

"Yes, that makes me feel better. I mean, it's not like you could not persuade the doctor otherwise," he snapped back.

The lieutenant guard laughed, completely brushing off the Prince-consort's hostile manner. "I wish I could do more for you, but I can't. Where are you going?"

"Getting a better seat for the show." He grabbed one of the servant's simple wooden stools and started back up toward the royal suite.

Geoffrey hesitated momentarily, but then he also grabbed a seat and took it up two flights of stairs to plunk it down next to Balthier's. "You truly need a hobby if you have nothing better to do than wait out my wife giving birth with me."

"I figured I would be helping out a friend, but if you want to be alone—" He moved to get up only to immediately get dragged back down.

"I need someone to hurl abuse at."

"I see. I could go get Al-Cid for you if that's the case."

"Although he's a great candidate, he and I have reached an understanding. I really don't care to destroy that if it means he'll pick up flirting with Ashe again."

A pack of cards materialized and they spent the next few hours playing Blackjack or Poker, whichever struck their fancy at the time. Every once in awhile Balthier would get up and put his ear to the door, under the watchful eyes of the guard and he tried to listen for any signs of Ashe's distress, a baby's wail. He thought he heard groaning and the shuffling of feet, but it was difficult to tell over the pounding of his own heart. Then the guards would yank him back and he'd throw a couple of nasty words their way. He then took to pacing while Geoffrey ran through parlor tricks. Balthier occasionally threw conspiratorial glances at the door as though he were thinking busting in, but then he glanced at the two guards and his planning seem to be put on hold.

"Captain Bunansa, you're going to drive yourself to insanity. It'll come when it comes. Shall I go call for breakfast?"

Balthier scowled at him. "I will not eat anything so long as my wife's locked in our room."

"Do whatever you must, but I'm starving. I'll be sure to eat it down there and not distract you," Geoffrey said, but Balthier noticed he left the pack of cards and so he picked them up and dealt himself a game of Solitaire.

An orange glow touched the horizon after his sixth game and it was then that he heard it. He jumped up so quickly every card in his game slid across the floor, but he barely noticed, his eyes were so focused on the door. The plaintive wailing of an infant easily became the loudest sound anyone had heard all morning, and the guards flanking the doors held self-satisfied smiles. Tradition continued and a new heir to the throne was born.

Dr. Raini pulled open the door and grinned at the Prince-consort who had fixed him with a burning gaze. His hair was mussed, scarlet flushed his face, and his eyes seemed to have sunken into his sockets, but the man grinned nonetheless and said, "Congratulations, Captain Bunansa. It's a girl!"

"Hey, congratulations, Captain," Geoffrey howled and clapped his shoulder, but Balthier could only stare in bewilderment.

"A girl? We have a girl? B-but Marskot got a boy!" He was afraid his heart might actually stop in his chest. The prospect of raising a boy had been terrifying, but a girl? He didn't know anything about little girls!

"I may not know from personal experience, but I imagine it all comes naturally," Geoffrey said at the look on his face. Balthier threw him a skeptical glance and Geoffrey gave him a tiny shove forward, "Go on! You signed up for the job when you married her Highness Queen Ashelia."

He nodded strongly in return, but it did not make him feel anymore confident. Still, he steeled himself and walked into the royal suite.

The Chambermaids slid past him at the door, but he barely noticed them at all as he stared transfixed at Ashe herself. She was holding a swaddled bundle in her arms and staring down at it with quite obvious exhaustion, but contentment as well. He swallowed hard and he figured Ashe must have heard it for she glanced up and smiled broadly at him, and then she beckoned him forward and held up their daughter in triumph.

He cautiously stepped forward and then touched Ashe gently on the shoulder and whispered, "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, Balthier. Tired, but fine. Hold your daughter."

It was every bit the command it sounded like, and his heart pounded even as his hands came up automatically to take the small bundle into his hands. The little girl stared up at him with drooping eyes, but she stirred a little as he adjusted her in his arms, holding her out for closer inspection. He pushed the blanket back and noticed that a thatch of black hair already grew from her soft head and he stared. His mother had had black hair.

Balthier could only gape at her in his arms, not quite believing what he was holding and he cocked his head as though to get a better angle. Then, slowly, his mouth twitched to form a smirk and he reached up to brush a stray strand from her forehead.

His thoughts drifted to seven months back when he was embroiled in a struggle with the Occuria. He had held onto not only Ashe as his beacon of hope, but the ideal that lie asleep in his arms at that moment. His heart lurched when he recalled the time he had given up on all his hope, trapped in a tiny cell, feverish from infection, and his body shivering from the pain as much as the cold. Hell. He had been through hell, a hell few people ever experience in their life, and he had come out bewilderingly clean on the other side of it.

Suddenly it all felt so worth it.

**The End**

**Author's Note: **Thank you, everyone, who read and reviewed! It has been a pleasure to entertain you fine folks, and I regret to inform you that I believe this will be my last Final Fantasy XII fanfiction ever. Even while writing this, inspiration for a short story never crossed my mind, but who knows what may come of the future? Still, thank you all for reading my works, not just this one, and I hope you enjoyed them all equally. Thank you!


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